FRANK,  and 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 


SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

THE  STORY  OF  TWO  REVOLUTIONS 


BY 
FRANK  AND  CORTELLE  HUTCHINS 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW  YORK 

THE  CENTURY  CO. 

1921 


Copyright,  1921,  by 
THE  CENTURY  Co. 


Printed  in  U.  S.  A. 


TO  A   LOVED   LITTLE  OLD   LADY 

CAROLINE  FULLER  JONES 
OUR   MOTHER   AND   "MOTHER" 

THIS  BOOK  IS 
AFFECTIONATELY  DEDICATED 


FOREWORD 

THIS  book  has  been  written  to  be  inter- 
esting: if  it  proves  to  be  so,  its  lesser 
purpose  will  have  succeeded.  It  has  been 
written  to  be  historically  accurate:  if  it 
proves  not  to  be  so,  its  greater  purpose 
will  have  failed. 

THE  AUTHORS 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAG* 

I  AN  OLD  ENVOY  FROM  A  YOUNG  NATION    .     .  3 

II  FRENCH  NOBLE  AND  ENGLISH  KING  ....  18 

III  LAFAYETTE  GOES  TO  AMERICA 28 

IV  THE  WOUNDED  BOY  FROM  FRANCE    ....  41 
V  THE  SWORD  MEDALLION,  "GLOUCESTER"     .     .  52 

VI  THE  BIRTH  OF  AMERICAN  DIPLOMACY    ...  59 

VII  THE  DAYS  OF  VALLEY  FORGE 69 

VIII  THE  SWORD  MEDALLION,  "BARREN  HILL"    .     .  78 

IX  THE  SWORD  MEDALLION,  "MONMOUTH"     .     .  86 

X  THE  SWORD  MEDALLION,  "RHODE  ISLAND"     .  92 

XI  A  FRENCH-AMERICAN  OFFICER  ON  FURLOUGH  99 

XII  AMERICA'S  PART  OF  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY     .     .  108 

XIII  AMERICA'S  FRIEND  AT  COURT 115 

XIV  DAYS  OF  WAITING 127 

XV  MORE  HELP  FROM  FRANCE 136 

XVI  FRANCE  AND  AMERICA  TALK  IT  OVER    .     .     .  148 

XVII  A  NIGHT  OF  TREASON 156 

XVIII  SAVING  AMERICA'S  GIBRALTAR 165 

XIX  FIGHTING  IN  THE  CAROUNAS 176 

XX  RETREATING  TO  VICTORY 189 

XXI  THE  FINAL  VENTURE 203 


x  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PACK 

XXII  YORKTOWN 214 

XXIII  PEACE  BETWEEN  ENGLAND  AND  AMERICA    .     .  224 

XXIV  A  CRUMBLING  THRONE 233 

XXV  THE  FALL  OF  THE  BASTILLE 245 

XXVI  THE  END  OF  THE  FEUDAL  SYSTEM    ....  258 

XXVII  THE  MOB  AND  THE  KING 266 

XXVIII  FRANCE'S  PART  OF  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY    .     .     .  277 

XXIX  STORMING  THE  TUILERIES       ......  291 

XXX  THE  REIGN  OF  TERROR 305 

XXXI  END  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 319 

XXXII  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 332 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

Marquis  De  La  Fayette Frontispiece 

FACING  PACE 

Benjamin  Franklin 20 

Old  State  House,  Philadelphia 38 

George  Washington 56 

The  British  Surrendering  their  Arms  to  General  Wash- 
ington after  their  Surrender  at  Yorktown,  Virginia    .     220 

Siege  of  the  Bastille 256 

The  Storming  of  the  Tuileries 300 

The  Temple 324 


SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 


Somewhere  in  France  there  is  a  strange  and 
magnificent  sword. 

Once,,  care  fully  guarded,  it  was  brought  to 
this  country  and  exhibited  at  the  World's  Co- 
lumbian Exposition.  The  engraved  gold  hilt 
and  the  finely  etched  blade  tell,  most  oddly 
blended,  Jthe  stories  of  the  two  great  struggles 
of  the  modern  world  for  freedom. 

Sword  of  the  American  Revolution — Sword 
of  the  French  Revolution— SWORD  OF 
LIBERTY! 


SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 
CHAPTER  I 

AN  OLD  ENVOY  FROM  A  YOUNG  NATION 

IT  was  a  late-October  day  in  the  year  1776.  An 
old  man  and  two  boys  were  driving  quietly,  per- 
haps almost  stealthily,  out  of  a  town  that  lay  along 
a  wide  brown  river.  An  odd-looking  town  it  was, 
and  in  a  land  that  the  world  did  not  know  much 
about,  a  land  that  was  just  struggling  out  of  its 
colonial  swaddling-clothes,  and  trying  hard  to  be  a 
nation,  the  United  States  of  America. 

Leaving  the  town — Philadelphia,  it  was  called — 
the  travelers  turned  into  the  King's  Highway,  lead- 
ing down  along  the  Delaware  River.  The  old  man 
was  large  and  a  little  round-shouldered.  He  had 
a  placid,  rather  grandmotherly  face,  but  the  pro- 
jecting chin  and  something  in  the  quiet,  steady  eyes 
gave  hint  enough  of  virile  force.  He  was  plainly 
dressed  in  dark  wide-skirted  coat  and  knee-breeches. 
A  fur  cap  came  low  over  his  thin  gray  hair,  seem- 
ing almost  to  rest  upon  his  big  round  spectacles. 
Anybody  in  Philadelphia,  where  he  lived,  and  many 
folks  far  beyond,  could  have  pointed  out  this  quaint 

3 


4  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

figure  as  one  of  the  most  prominent  men  of  the 
country,  Benjamin  Franklin. 

The  two  boys  were  grandsons  of  Franklin.  They 
were  almost  miniatures  of  him  in  point  of  dress, 
and,  with  their  prominent  little  chins,  looked  some- 
what like  him.  One  was  Benjamin  Bache,  a  child  of 
seven.  The  other  was  William  Temple  Franklin, 
about  fifteen  years  old.  This  lad,  usually  called 
Temple,  was  to  have  a  most  unusual  part,  for  a  boy, 
in  the  stirring  events  toward  which  the  three  were 
now  journeying.  If  there  was  anything  of  stealth 
about  these  travelers,  it  was  not  without  reason. 
Peaceful  as  everything  may  have  seemed  all  about 
them  as  they  jogged  along  the  old  post-road,  the 
times  were  troublous  enough,  and  they  were  start- 
ing upon  a  perilous  undertaking. 

For  over  a  year  the  American  people  had  been 
engaged  in  conflict  with  Great  Britain,  at  first  to 
secure  their  rights  as  Englishmen,  but  since  the 
memorable  Fourth  of  July  of  this  year  to  secure 
their  independence.  The  war,  which  had  started 
out  with  such  spirit  and  fervor  at  Concord  and 
Lexington  and  Bunker  Hill,  had  settled  down  to  a 
grim  and  not  very  hopeful  struggle.  It  was  evi- 
dent that  help  must  be  had  or  the  cause  would  be 
lost.  Indeed,  for  some  time  the  colonies  had  had 
an  agent,  Silas  Deane,  in  France  doing  what  he 
could  to  get  sympathy  and  support  there.  Lately 
the  Continental  Congress  had  determined  to  have  a 


AN  OLD  ENVOY  5 

body  of  three  commissioners  in  that  country,  and 
had  appointed  as  such  Benjamin  Franklin,  then  in 
Philadelphia,  Silas  Deane,  already  in  Paris,  and 
Arthur  Lee,  at  the  time  in  London. 

So  now  Dr.  Franklin  and  his  grandsons  were  on 
their  way  to  a  little  settlement  about  twenty  miles 
down  the  Delaware,  called  Marcus  Hook,  where  a 
swift  war  vessel  of  the  colonies  was  waiting  to 
carry  them  to  France.  And  danger  lurked  in  every 
league  of  the  way.  Franklin  was  naturally  the 
head  and  front  of  the  new  commission,  because  of 
his  great  reputation,  and  because  he  was  especially 
well  and  favorably  known  in  France  from  two  visits 
he  had  made  there.  Glad  would  the  British  have 
been  to  capture  this  important  envoy  and  to  thwart 
his  mission  to  the  French  court.  Franklin  well  knew 
that  his  capture  would  mean  at  least  long  imprison- 
ment, more  likely  death. 

But,  putting  out  of  mind  all  anxious  thoughts, 
as  the  philosophic  old  Doctor  had  a  way  of  doing, 
there  was  much  to  interest  man  and  boys  along 
the  King's  Highway.  The  warm  reds  of  Phila- 
delphia's homes  and  the  spire  of  Christ's  Church 
faded  in  the  background,  as  the  mile-stones  along 
the  way  bobbed  up  and  spoke  and  fell  behind.  A 
bend  and  a  swing  of  the  road  over  closer  to  the 
river,  and  then  the  travelers  were  driving  between 
the  little  hipped-roofed  homes  of  Old  Chester, 
where  the  sign  of  that  famous  inn  "The  Pennsyl- 


6  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

vania  Arms"  swung  in  the  wind  just  across  the 
street  from  the  steepled  court-house.  Here  the 
Franklin  party  ended  their  travel  for  that  day,  and 
"nighted."- 

Next  morning  they  were  on  their  way  again,  the 
road  now  running  much  closer  to  the  Delaware. 
They  felt  the  freshening  wind  and  caught  the  glint 
of  tacking  sails.  A  sharp  turn  toward  the  river, 
and  they  entered  the  little  village  of  Marcus  Hook. 
The  place  had  a  double  interest  for  the  boys.  It 
was  not  only  the  port  from  which  they  were  to 
sail,  but  it  was  also  a  famous  old-time  resort  of 
pirates.  Folks  still  living  there  that  day  had 
seen  the  doughty  Blackbeard  and  his  crew  swag- 
gering in  the  streets  and  inns.  The  pirates  had 
made  one  street  so  much  a  scene  of  their  drunken 
brawls  that  it  had  been  called  Discord  Lane.  Likely 
as  not  it  was  along  Discord  Lane  that  the  Franklins 
now  drove  into  the  village,  their  eyes  sweeping 
the  shipping  on  the  wide  river  for  a  glimpse  of  the 
war  vessel  that  was  to  carry  them  to  France.  There 
she  lay  out  beyond  the  long  piers  of  Marcus  Hook, 
— the  Reprisal,  one  of  the  swiftest  vessels  of  what 
Congress  now  called  the  United  States  Navy. 

The  Franklins  lost  no  time  in  getting  aboard, 
though  the  old  Doctor  had  no  longer  the  athletic 
nimbleness  of  his  earlier  years,  and  his  was  a 
rather  corpulent  body  to  carry  over  the  ship's  side. 
Now  this  important  envoy  was  in  as  safe  hands 


AN  OLD  ENVOY  7 

as  possible;  for  the  commander  of  the  Reprisal, 
Captain  Lambert  Wickes,  was  one  of  the  best  of- 
ficers in  the  navy.  The  captain,  and  the  officers 
under  him  too,  were  rather  brilliant  figures  as  they 
stood  there  on  the  quarter-deck  of  the  little  "rebel" 
war-ship.  At  first  our  naval  officers  wore  almost 
anything  they  happened  to  pick  up.  That  would  not 
do,  and  now  for  some  time  the  order  of  Congress 
had  been  out  prescribing  regulation  American  uni- 
forms. So  behold  our  captain  resplendent  in  blue 
coat  with  red  lapels  and  yellow  buttons,  blue 
breeches,  and  a  red  waistcoat  trimmed  with  lace. 
The  subordinate  officers  added  half  a  dozen  more 
shades  to  the  color  scheme. 

It  was  on  the  morning  of  October  27  that  the 
Reprisal  got  under  way.  Piercing  notes  of  the 
boatswain's  silver  pipe,  topmen  running  aloft,  deck- 
men  at  ropes  and  capstan,  haul  and  strain  of  hem- 
pen cable,  flap  and  swell  of  spreading  sail ;  and  then 
the  swing  and  the  list  of  the  little  ship  as  she  an- 
swered to  the  pulse  of  the  wind  and  the  call  of  the 
sea.  Now  the  scientific  Franklin,  who  had  always 
a  leaning  toward  a  seafaring  life,  gave  a  sharp 
eye  to  the  sort  of  vessel  he  was  on.  She  was  a 
sloop  of  war,  not  much  of  a  fighting-ship,  car- 
rying only  sixteen  six-pound  guns;  but  the  boys 
came  across  plenty  of  muskets,  sabers,  and  boarding- 
pikes. 

The  Reprisal  made  a  good  run  of  the  Delaware, 


8  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

tacking  between  pleasant  wooded  shores  that  showed 
in  those  days  but  little  mark  of  man's  reshaping. 
At  the  end  of  the  third  day  she  was  approaching  the 
opening  between  the  capes,  the  gateway  to  the  ocean. 
The  critical  moment  had  come.  Just  outside  the  bay 
was  a  favorite  cruising-ground  of  the  British  war- 
ships. To  run  the  gantlet  of  those  menacing  craft 
would  be  the  most  hazardous  part  of  the  whole  voy- 
age. It  was  in  the  darkness  of  the  night  of  Oc- 
tober 29  that  the  little  ship  slipped  out  between  the 
capes.  There  were  no  lights  on  her,  nor  a  sound 
aboard,  save  the  guarded  voice  of  the  leadsman, 
the  muffled  word  of  command,  the  creaking  strain 
of  spar  and  cordage.  But  taut  was  every  sail  she 
could  carry,  and  tense  every  soul  on  board.  Luck 
still  held  with  the  Reprisal.  Out  of  the  gloom  came 
no  challenging  voice,  no  warning  shot  across  her 
bows.  On  in  ghostly  silence  she  ran  through  the 
night;  and  by  the  time  daybreak  robbed  her  of  the 
friendly  darkness,  she  was  past  the  worst  of  the 
cruiser-infested  waters.  Still,  to  the  end,  menace 
would  lie  in  every  sighted  sail. 

The  November  gales  soon  struck  the  voyagers, 
and  they  had  much  tempestuous  weather.  Franklin 
escaped  seasickness,  because  he  never  was  subject 
to  that,  but  he  was  far  from  well  during  most  of 
the  voyage.  But  no  illness  could  thwart  his  pas- 
sion for  scientific  pursuits.  Just  now  the  "gulph" 
stream  and  other  ocean  currents  held  his  interest, 


AN  OLD  ENVOY  9 

and  every  day  the  temperature  of  the  sea  and  of  the 
air  had  to  be  religiously  taken  and  recorded. 

It  was  well  that  other  folks  aboard  the  Reprisal 
were  not  so  absorbed  in  scientific  pursuits.  Some- 
body had  to  look  out  for  English  cruisers.  Many 
times  the  ceaseless  eye-sweep  of  the  ocean  detected 
such  craft;  and  more  than  once  the  issue  of  their 
chase  was  doubtful.  Then  came  the  preparation 
for  engagement.  And  there  was  thrill  in  that 
moment  for  an  old  man  as  well  as  for  two  boys. 
The  roll  of  drums  sounding  over  the  sloop,  beating 
the  crew  to  quarters;  the  quick  manning  of  the 
guns;  the  officers'  keen  inspection  along  the  lines, 
now  a  word  of  command,  now  a  sharp  glance  at 
primer  and  breeching.  Then  the  stern,  silent  wait- 
ing. And  what  must  have  been  the  white-haired 
Franklin's  thoughts  in  that  ominous  waiting!  On- 
coming, under  billowing  canvas,  and  swiftly  cleav- 
ing the  sea,  a  formidable  enemy  cruiser;  beneath 
him  a  poorly  armed  sloop;  and  clearly  imaged  to 
the  steady  old  eyes,  an  English  scaffold  and  a  halter ! 
But  the  plucky  little  Reprisal  would  not  permit  that. 
Sooner  or  later  she  would  manoeuver  to  get  the  wind 
to  her  liking,  and  then  gradually  her  pursuer  would 
fade  and  lessen  and  sink  over  the  rim  of  the  ocean. 

One  morning  toward  the  end  of  the  voyage,  Cap- 
tain Wickes  himself  determined  to  try  to  take  a 
prize.  He  was  successful.  About  noon  a  British 
brig  struck  her  colors  and  surrendered.  That  was 


io  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

a  bigger  event  than  it  appears.  The  capture  of  that 
brig  was  very  much  more  than  mere  prize-taking. 
It  was  America's  first  blow  struck  on  the  other  side 
of  the  ocean.  It  was  carrying  the  war  across  the 
Atlantic ! 

In  all  this  commotion  on  the  Reprisal,  the  philoso- 
phic Franklin  never  forgot  his  thermometer.  Noon- 
day was  the  time  for  taking  the  temperature  of  the 
sea,  and  no  mere  prize-taking  happening  at  the  same 
time  was  to  interfere  with  it.  Just  as  usual  the  ther- 
mometer went  over  the  ship's  side,  and  calmly  the 
record  was  entered  that  at  noon  on  November  27, 
1776,  the  temperature  of  the  sea  was  fifty-eight 
degrees  Fahrenheit. 

But  the  Reprisal  was  not  done  with  her  prize- 
taking.  Along  in  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day 
she  overhauled  another  British  brig,  and  captured 
her  with  a  valuable  cargo  of  flaxseed  and  brandy. 
So  evening  found  the  little  American  war-ship  again 
on  her  way,  proudly  convoying  two  prizes.  She 
soon  sighted  the  French  coast,  and  came  to  anchor 
on  November  29  in  Quiberon  Bay.  Contrary  winds 
preventing  the  Reprisal  from  making  the  port  of 
Nantes,  Captain  Wickes  procured  a  fishing-boat 
on  December  3  to  put  the  Franklins  ashore  at  a 
little  village  called  Auray.  Sailing  through  an  open- 
ing in  the  coast-line  and  following  the  picturesque 
windings  of  a  stream  for  about  three  miles,  they 
came  to  the  village  at  which  they  were  to  land. 


AN  OLD  ENVOY  II 

Auray  lay  close  to  the  river, — broken,  irregular 
rocks  along  the  water-front,  and  a  lofty  hill  frown- 
ing behind. 

The  Breton  craft  was  brought  to  shore,  and  then 
was  presented  a  strange  spectacle, — Benjamin  Frank- 
lin, American  envoy  to  the  King  of  France,  landing 
from  a  dirty  fishing-boat,  at  a  poor  little  village, 
unheralded  and  unknown,  in  the  cold  and  dark  of 
a  winter  night. 

There  was  no  post-chaise  to  be  had  at  Auray, 
and  it  was  necessary  to  send  about  ten  miles  down 
the  coast  to  Vannes  for  a  carriage.  It  was  a  miser- 
able conveyance  that  arrived,  but  at  last  the  long 
journey  to  the  French  capital  was  begun.  The 
route  was  to  be  by  way  of  Nantes,  where  the  bag- 
gage would  be  left  from  the  ship.  As  the  weakened 
Franklin  traveled  slowly,  often  resting  at  inns  along 
the  way,  it  was  not  until  December  7  that  his  car- 
riage drove  into  Nantes,  a  bustling  city  for  those 
days,  and  one  attractively  picturesque.  Spread  out 
over  islands  lying  between  the  six  arms  of  the  river 
Loire,  the  town  was  tied  together  by  stone  bridges, 
beneath  which  sailed  up  and  down  the  little  Breton 
boats. 

Into  this  scene,  still  driving  quietly  on,  still  un- 
announced and  with  none  to  welcome,  came  the  most 
famous  man  of  America,  one  of  the  most  widely 
and  favorably  known  men  of  the  world.  But  here 
was  to  come  the  awakening.  Now  France  was  to 


12  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

learn  that  the  great  Franklin  was  upon  her  soil. 
Now  was  to  begin  an  ovation  that  was  to  last 
through  all  the  years  of  his  stay.  The  old  Doctor 
had  acquaintances  in  Nantes,  men  he  had  known 
in  previous  visits  to  France.  Soon  he  was  in  the 
hands  of  his  friends,  and  an  elaborate  entertain- 
ment was  prepared  for  him.  The  news  of  his  ar- 
rival was  caught  up  from  mouth  to  mouth  until 
the  whole  city  was  in  a  ferment. 

Here  we  have  a  peculiar  situation.  How  did  the 
mere  coming  of  one  old  man,  even  so  prominent  a 
man  as  Franklin,  produce  such  a  sensation  ?  Largely 
as  the  answer  lies  in  the  old  man  himself,  it  lies 
more  largely  in  the  nation  he  had  come  to  visit. 

It  was  a  strange  France,  that  France  of  1776. 
On  the  surface  it  was  a  stable  and  magnificent  mon- 
archy; beneath,  it  was  honeycombed  and  under- 
mined. But  nobody  saw  beneath,  and  nobody  saw 
what  was  coming.  France  was,  herself,  upon  the 
eve  of  revolution,  and  did  not  know  it.  For  ages 
there  had  been  building  upon  a  crushed  people  a 
splendid  autocracy,  the  most  splendid  in  Europe. 
Never  again  will  the  world  look  upon  anything  so 
brilliant  as  that  court  of  Versailles! 

But  now,  down  below,  the  patient  burdened  folk 
of  France  were  straightening  their  bowed  backs, 
and,  all  unknown  to  themselves,  were  preparing  to 
step  from  under.  Strangely,  among  the  higher 
classes  too,  the  age-long  order  was  breaking.  From 


AN  OLD  ENVOY  13 

somewhere  vague  ideas  of  a  freer  life  were  creep- 
ing in.  Unheard  of  words — "liberty,"  "equality," 
— were  upon  every  tongue.  Nobody  knew  just  what 
they  meant,  but  that  mattered  little.  Their  sound 
was  alluring.  So  alluring,  indeed,  that  the  very 
aristocrats,  the  scions  of  nobility,  could  not  resist 
them. 

"Liberty!  Liberty!"  cried  the  common  people, 
not  knowing  that  soon  in  that  name  they  were  to 
commit  the  foulest  crimes.  "Liberty!  Liberty!"  re- 
sponded the  nobility,  not  knowing  that  soon  in  that 
name  they  were  to  be  dragged  to  the  guillotine. 
Even  the  throne  was  touched  by  the  infection.  At 
last  there  reigned  a  king  who  would,  if  he  could, 
have  done  something  for  his  people.  But  the  hour 
was  too  late,  and  the  hand  was  too  weak.  All  that 
young  Louis  XVI  could  do  was  to  show  sympathy 
with  the  spirit  of  the  people,  and  to  echo  faintly, 
"Liberty!"  And  he  too  knew  not  what  he  voiced, 
iand  that  in  that  name  he  and  his  young  queen, 
Marie  Antoinette,  should  one  day  perish. 

Now  to  such  a  nation,  vaguely  wakening  to  a 
vision  of  freedom,  suddenly  came  Benjamin  Frank- 
lin, the  recognized  incarnation  of  freedom,  the  rep- 
resentative of  a  brave  young  land  across  the  sea  that 
even  then  was  waging  a  desperate  struggle  for 
liberty.  Was  it  surprising  that  the  great  heart  of 
France  went  out  to  him? 

After  a  short  rest  at  Nantes,  the  Franklins  went 


14  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

on  their  way  to  Paris.  For  days  they  journeyed 
on  past  quaint  villages,  ancient  Roman  towers, 
Gothic  cathedrals,  and  the  stately  country-seats  of 
French  nobility.  The  last  day  of  this  long  drive 
was  Friday,  December  20.  The  improved  condi- 
tion of  the  country,  the  more  perfectly  kept  high- 
way, the  increase  of  travel,  all  indicated  to  Franklin 
that  they  were  approaching  the  royal  suburb  of 
Paris,  Versailles.  Some  time  before  mid-afternoon 
they  emerged  from  a  woodland,  and  there  ahead, 
upon  a  wide  plateau,  loomed  the  great  white  palace 
of  the  French  king.  It  flashed  upon  the  wondering 
sight  of  the  boys  like  an  enchanted  castle.  But 
for  Franklin  it  had  sterner  significance.  Within 
those  marble  walls,  gleaming  in  the  western  sun, 
lay  the  fate  of  American  independence. 

Approaching  from  the  west,  the  travelers  saw 
little  of  the  town  of  Versailles,  as  that  lay  upon 
the  other  side  of  the  palace.  Upon  this  side  were 
the  royal  parks  and  gardens,  which,  even  if  open 
to  criticism  from  an  artistic  standpoint,  were  the 
most  beautiful  thing  of  the  kind  in  the  world.  When 
the  Franklins  had  passed  the  terrace,  where  the 
colossal  "Hundred  Steps"  flanked  the  orangery,  and 
where  lords  and  ladies  sauntered  in  the  sunshine, 
they  drove  on  past  the  southern  wing  of  the  palace 
and  found  themselves  in  the  town  of  Versailles.  A 
strange  town,  its  every  feature  dwarfed  by  the 
great  palace  that  sat  upon  its  eminence  as  upon  a 


AN  OLD  ENVOY  15 

throne.  But  a  town  of  brilliant  life,  always  staged 
for  pomp  and  pleasure. 

It  was  all  a  familiar  story  to  Franklin,  who  even 
had  been  presented  at  the  French  court.  But  the 
travel-worn  old  man  needed  rest,  and  he  determined 
to  stop  at  Versailles  until  the  next  day.  His  choice 
of  an  inn  gave  the  boys  a  peep  at  the  most  ani- 
mated part  of  the  town.  They  turned  into  a  vast, 
bustling  plaza,  called  the  Place  d'Armes.  From  it 
three  roads  branched  fan-wise,  the  central  one  the 
main  highway  to  Paris.  Here  in  those  days  went 
endless  conflicting  streams  of  vehicles.  Long 
wicker  stages,  each  with  several  horses;  high  En- 
glish gigs  of  the  new  fashion;  crude  carts  of  com- 
mon folks;  little  glass-enclosed  carriages  known  as 
caliches,  with  court  beauties  in  their  velvet  depths; 
and,  cutting  recklessly  through  all,  the  gilded  chariots 
of  the  princes,  drawn  by  six  horses  at  full  gallop. 

Safely  through  this  moving  maze  of  the  Place 
d'Armes  we  see  the  Franklins  enter  the  Rue  Dau- 
phin, drive  down  it  a  little  way  to  a  pretty  park, 
and  there  draw  up  at  Number  Eight,  the  inn  called 
La  Belle  Image.  That  night  as  the  old  man  looked 
from  his  windows  out  over  Versailles  alight,  it  was 
with  no  divination  of  the  future  to  tell  him  to  look 
to  the  westward.  And  yet  in  that  direction,  within 
a  square  or  two,  stood  the  Hotel  de  Noailles,  the 
court  home  of  a  French  nobleman  who  was  to  do 


16  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

as  much  as  Franklin  himself  for  American  inde- 
pendence. 

The  Hotel  de  Noailles  was  one  of  the  mansions  of 
a  most  ancient  and  noble  family  of  France.  In 
keeping  with  the  custom  of  the  times,  it  was  a 
sort  of  patriarchal  home,  richly  conducted  upon  a 
vast  scale,  and  housing  at  once  members  of  two  or 
three  generations.  When  the  fourteen-year-old 
daughter  of  the  house,  Adrienne,  had  married  a 
tall  young  nobleman  with  hazel  eyes,  red  hair,  and 
great  wealth,  scarcely  older  than  herself,  the  boy- 
and-girl  couple  made  their  Versailles  home  in  this 
family  mansion  overlooking  the  palace  gardens.  The 
young  husband  was  the  Marquis  de  Lafayette,  al- 
ready filled  with  that  enthusiasm  for  liberty  that 
was  to  carry  him  across  the  sea  to  fight  for  America. 

Some  months  earlier,  as  an  officer  in  the  French 
Army,  Lafayette  had  been  stationed  in  the  old  town 
of  Metz.  There  he  had  attended  a  dinner  given 
in  honor  of  the  English  Duke  of  Gloucester,  then 
traveling  in  France.  Listening  to  the  duke's  story 
of  the  American  war,  the  boy  noble  had  given  his 
heart  to  the  cause  of  the  struggling  colonists.  Be- 
fore he  left  the  table  he  was  planning  to  go  to  Amer- 
ica to  help  them.  But  there  was  a  difficulty.  He 
knew  that  if  his  father-in-law,  the  powerful  Due 
d'Ayen,  should  suspect  his  design,  he  would  op- 
pose it,  and  would  even  secure  King  Louis's  inter- 
dict 


AN  OLD  ENVOY  17 

So  Lafayette  had  determined  to  keep  his  project 
secret  from  all  but  those  who  had  to  know,  secret 
from  his  king,  and  even  from  his  family.  His  first 
step  had  been  to  go  to  Paris  to  consult  with  the 
agent  of  the  United  States,  Silas  Deane.  And,  even 
through  an  interpreter,  he  had  impressed  Deane  so 
favorably  that  he  had  obtained  a  commission  as 
major-general  in  the  American  Army.  And  now, 
from  that  time  to  this  night  of  Franklin's  coming 
to  Versailles,  the  young  noble  had  vainly  sought 
to  get  to  America. 

The  next  day  Silas  Deane  arrived  at  Versailles 
to  meet  Doctor  Franklin.  He  was  about  fifty  years 
old,  and  of  rather  distinguished  appearance.  Though 
a  man  of  ability,  he  was  unable  to  handle  the  com- 
plicated situation  in  France,  and  he  was  overjoyed 
at  sight  of  the  competent  old  Doctor. 

Now  the  little  party  of  Americans  set  out  on 
their  twelve-mile  drive  to  the  capital  city.  The  road 
was  excellent, — broad,  well  paved,  and  lined  on  each 
side  with  beautiful  trees.  It  soon  came  to  the  river 
Seine,  followed  for  a  while  the  windings  of  the 
stream,  then,  passing  through  the  city  gate,  entered 
Paris.  Franklin's  long  journey  was  over. 


CHAPTER  II 

FRENCH    NOBLE   AND   ENGLISH    KING 

OUITE  different  from  the  Paris  of  to-day  was 
the  city  that  the  American  envoys  entered  that 
Saturday,  December  21,  1776.  Though  even  then 
a  place  of  nearly  a  million  inhabitants,  with  many 
fine  buildings  and  some  that  were  palaces,  it  had 
not  on  the  whole  an  attractive  appearance.  Among 
its  worst  features  were  the  narrow,  dirty  streets, 
with  open  gutters  in  the  middle,  and  without  side- 
walks. The  houses  were  high  and  narrow,  of  hewn 
stone.  Most  of  them  were  weather-stained  and 
dilapidated,  but  the  newer  ones  white  and  beautiful. 
The  streets  were  crowded  with  tangled  traffic;  and 
here,  there,  and  everywhere  went  swarms  of  pedes- 
trians. Had  the  envoys  run  over  some  of  them, 
little  notice  would  have  been  taken;  street  accidents 
were  an  accepted  feature  of  Paris  life.  A  city  of 
hubbub :  ceaseless  screaming  of  water-carriers,  ven- 
ders of  vegetables,  milk,  fruit,  and  what  not;  fren- 
zied shouts  of  drivers;  clangor  of  church  and 
convent  bells  that  were  never  still. 

Deane  had  secured  lodgings  for  Franklin  and  his 
18 


FRENCH  NOBLE  AND  ENGLISH  KING     19 

grandsons  at  the  hotel  where  he  himself  lived. 
This  carried  them  to  the  Latin  Quarter,  where  they 
drew  up  almost  across  the  Seine  from  the  Tuileries, 
at  the  Hotel  de  Hambourg.  Next  day  a  rather  tall, 
good-looking  blue-eyed  man  made  his  appearance 
in  the  French  capital,  Mr.  Arthur  Lee,  the  third 
American  envoy,  just  arrived  from  London.  Here 
was  a  singular  character.  Probably  both  able  and 
patriotic,  he  was  yet  narrow  and  malignant,  and 
bound  to  be  a  thorn  in  Franklin's  side  for  many  a 
day  to  come. 

As  it  became  known  that  the  great  Franklin  was 
in  Paris,  the  city  went  wild  with  enthusiasm.  His 
old  friends  flew  to  greet  him;  enthusiasts  for  the 
rights  of  man  rallied  about  the  famous  signer  of 
the  Declaration  of  Independence;  aristocrats  and 
nobles  rose  to  do  him  honor,  and,  more  than  all, 
the  downtrodden  common  people,  looking  upon  this 
white-haired  American  patriot  as  the  breaker  of 
shackles,  thronged  about  his  hotel  and  filled  the 
streets  with  applause. 

Now  that  the  United  States  envoys  were  all  to- 
gether, they  promptly  took  up  the  situation  in 
France.  Louis  XVI  had  liberal  ideas  as  to  human 
rights,  and  shared  in  the  sympathy  his  country  felt 
for  the  cause  of  liberty  in  America.  Besides,  he 
and  his  ministers  were  not  blind  to  the  fact  that 
the  colonists  were  fighting  the  hereditary  enemies 
of  the  French.  Assistance  extended  to  them  would 


20  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

be  a  blow  against  a  hated  nation.  But  at  the  same 
time  France  was  not  prepared  to  risk  any  steps  that 
might  lead  to  war  with  Great  Britain.  Under  these 
conflicting  considerations  the  French  Government 
had  adopted  a  tentative  policy  of  aiding  the  Ameri- 
cans in  such  ways  and  at  such  times  as  it  could, 
secretly.  According  to  this  policy  the  Minister  for 
Foreign  Affairs,  the  Comte  de  Vergennes,  was  now 
acting;  and  it  was  requiring  all  his  consummate 
finesse  to  maintain  an  appearance  of  French  neu- 
trality. The  assistance  thus  being  given  to  the 
Americans  was  considerable,  but  not  enough.  The 
envoys  knew  that  every  effort  must  be  made  to  get 
more  help,  and  indeed  to  secure  the  open  alliance 
of  France  with  America. 

On  the  day  after  Lee's  arrival,  Franklin  drew  up 
their  first  official  communication  to  the  French  Gov- 
ernment, including  a  request  for  an  audience.  The 
conveyance  of  the  papers  was  entrusted  to  Temple, 
who  now  became  secretary  to  his  grandfather.  And 
the  boy's  first  mission  turned  out  well.  He  was  to 
go  to  M.  Conrad  Alexander  Gerard,  secretary  to  the 
Comte  de  Vergennes.  Gerard  was  out  of  town. 
But  the  lad  had  no  idea  of  allowing  the  business 
of  the  United  States  of  America  to  be  delayed 
by  that.  Buoyed  up  by  a  bursting  sense  of  impor- 
tance and  brand-new  Parisian  clothes  and  wig, 
he  proceeded  to  the  great  Vergennes  himself.  We 
can  see  the  slender  young  figure  moving  away  a 


fl 


BENJAMIN   FRANKLIN 

From   a    portrait   by    iHiplessis 


FRENCH  NOBLE  AND  ENGLISH  KING    21 

little  perplexedly  from  the  Foreign  Office,  along 
the  Rue  de  la  Surintendance,  and  at  length  stand- 
ing before  the  imposing  gates  of  the  royal  palace. 
There  he  must  needs  negotiate  his  way  past  the 
guards,  across  to  the  great  south  wing,  and  into 
the  presence  of  the  august  minister  of  His  Majesty, 
Louis  XVI. 

Not  a  presence  to  be  lightly  entered,  that  of  the 
veteran  French  statesman,  the  Comte  de  Vergennes, 
a  dignified,  cold,  calculating  man  with  a  manner 
gravely,  chillingly  polite.  But  it  was  in  a  very 
friendly  way,  likely  with  some  amusement,  that  he 
received  the  youthful  American  diplomat.  As  this 
minister  was  unfamiliar  with  English,  he  appre- 
ciated Temple's  ability  to  speak  French.  The  an- 
swer that  the  boy  brought  to  Paris  was  that  Ver- 
gennes would  receive  the  American  envoys  upon 
December  28. 

The  Americans  were  received  with  great  respect, 
but  the  meeting  was  a  disappointment.  Even  the 
astute  Franklin  could  not  alter  French  policy.  Still, 
shortly  after  the  interview,  came,  in  the  old  secret 
way,  two  million  francs,  without  interest,  to  be 
repaid  when  the  United  States  should  be  settled  in 
peace  and  prosperity. 

Scant  and  depressing  enough  was  the  news  these 
days  from  over  the  seas.  Through  English  reports 
the  envoys  learned  that  the  colonists  had  met  de- 
feats shortly  after  Franklin  sailed  from  Marcus 


22  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

Hook,  and  Washington  had  been  forced  to  retreat 
straight  toward  the  little  capital,  Philadelphia.  The 
English  gazettes  were  jubilant,  exasperating.  It 
seemed  that  the  cause  of  liberty  was  failing.  As  a 
matter  of  fact  there  was  another  side  to  the  story. 
But  France  and  Franklin  did  not  know  then  how 
Washington  had  turned,  carried  his  army  through 
floating  ice  across  the  Delaware,  and  struck  back 
successfully  at  Trenton  and  at  Princeton.  France 
and  Franklin  knew  only  of  defeat  and  retreat.  But 
the  brave  smile  of  Franklin  never  failed.  "£a  ira," 
he  would  say;  or,  as  we  should  put  it,  "It  will  be 
all  right  in  the  end."  And  "£a  ira"  went  the  round 
of  Paris.  And  America's  friends  took  heart  again. 

In  their  own  troubles,  the  envoys  did  not  forget 
Lafayette,  and  the  efforts  he  was  making  to  go  to 
the  aid  of  the  colonists.  After  the  unfavorable 
news  from  America  they  advised  him  to  give  up 
his  chivalrous  project.  But  Lafayette  had  no  idea 
of  abandoning  the  cause  of  liberty  because  its  state 
was  desperate.  "Until  now,"  he  replied,  "you  have 
seen  only  my  ardor  in  your  cause,  and  that  may 
not  prove  wholly  useless.  I  shall  purchase  a  ship. 
It  is  especially  in  the  hour  of  danger  that  I  wish 
to  share  your  fortune."  At  once  the  marquis  set 
out  upon  his  new  plan,  and  for  some  time  the  Ameri- 
cans knew  little  of  his  movements. 

One  of  the  first  persons  of  importance  that  Frank- 
lin met  after  arriving  in  Paris  was  a  large-faced 


FRENCH  NOBLE  AND  ENGLISH  KING    23 

Frenchman,  with  a  wide  good-natured  mouth,  and 
an  evident  immediate  liking  for  the  Doctor.  This 
was  M.  Donatien  le  Ray  de  Chaumont,  a  man  of 
wealth  and  of  marked  devotion  to  the  American 
cause.  He  had  recently  purchased  a  handsome 
home,  the  Hotel  de  Valentinois,  in  a  suburb  of  Paris 
called  Passy.  There  was  a  large  and  independent 
portion  of  it,  furnished  but  unoccupied,  and  this 
he  now  offered  to  Franklin.  The  matter  of  rent 
was  waived.  Time  enough  to  talk  of  that  when 
American  freedom  was  won. 

M.  de  Chaumont's  offer  was  accepted.  The 
Franklins  moved  to  their  suburban  home  early  in 
1777.  A  half-hour's  drive  out  along  the  road  to 
Versailles  brought  them  to  Passy,  a  village  crown- 
ing a  wooded  hill  beside  the  Seine.  It  was  one  of 
the  most  beautiful  and  socially  desirable  of  the  Paris 
suburbs.  A  remarkable  panorama  greeted  their 
eyes  from  that  village  height:  Paris,  the  winding 
Seine,  a  country-side  dotted  with  noblemen's  villas, 
and  scores  of  walled  towns.  There  were  many  im- 
posing homes  in  Passy,  among  them  one  of  the 
king's  chateaux,  La  Muette.  Indeed,  next  to  this 
royal  chateau  stood  Franklin's  new  home,  the  Hotel 
de  Valentinois.  The  way  to  this  was  now  along  a 
winding  road,  beneath  a  stone  bridge,  and  through  a 
gateway  into  the  walled  enclosure.  Castellated  and 
vine-embowered,  with  its  great  stone  balustrades 
and  Tuscan  columns,  its  settings  of  terraces  and 


24  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

gardens,  it  must  have  seemed  to  Franklin  an  in- 
congruous home  for  an  envoy  of  a  little  scarce- 
fledged  and  already  bankrupt  republic. 

So  imbued  are  most  of  us  with  an  idea  of  demo- 
cratic simplicity  in  Franklin,  that  we  naturally  pic- 
ture the  establishment  that  he  now  set  up  as  one 
of  Spartan  modesty.  Not  so.  The  fact  is  that 
there  was  no  great  simplicity  about  the  Doctor  in 
his  later  days.  He  was  a  man  of  the  world,  and 
with  very  different  ideas  from  those  of  his  Poor 
Richard.  Many  American  travelers  in  France  pro- 
nounced his  style  of  living  extravagant;  his  ele- 
gant French  friends  regarded  it  as  charmingly 
modest.  He  had  his  maitre  d'hotel  with  a  consid- 
erable corps  of  servants,  his  carriages  and  horses, 
and  maintained  a  rather  luxurious  table.  His 
servants  were  not  in  livery,  but  were  kept  neatly 
and  expensively  dressed. 

The  envoys  now  held  their  conferences  at  this 
new  home  of  their  chief ;  and  as  Congress  failed  to 
provide  an  assistant,  Temple  became  virtually  the 
secretary  of  the  embassy.  This  brought  him  closely 
in  touch  with  the  men  and  events  of  those  stirring 
times.  Probably  no  other  boy  of  his  age  ever  had 
such  intimate  knowledge  of  pending  international 
affairs.  To-day  it  is  with  an  odd  sense  of  the  in- 
congruous that  one  reads  the  records  of  momentous 
and  secret  state  papers,  written  in  a  boyish  hand, 


FRENCH  NOBLE  AND  ENGLISH  KING    25 

and  closing  with  the  entry,  "True  Copy.  Examined. 
W.  T.  Franklin." 

While  the  American  envoys  were  getting  their 
affairs  under  way  at  Passy,  the  indefatigable  Lafay- 
ette was  secretly  trying  to  purchase  a  ship.  Through 
a  trusted  agent,  he  secured  at  Bordeaux  a  vessel 
called  La  Victoire.  But  it  could  not  be  delivered 
until  the  middle  of  March.  In  the  meantime 
the  new  owner  went  to  London  upon  a  visit  to 
his  uncle,  the  Marquis  de  Noailles,  then  Ambas- 
sador from  France  to  England. 

Lafayette  had  never  been  in  London.  He  was 
impressed  by  the  marked  difference  in  appearance 
between  that  city  and  Paris.  In  Paris  were  far 
finer  palaces  and  gardens  than  he  found  here  in 
London;  the  houses  there,  too,  even  when  dingy, 
were  more  cheerful  than  the  dark  brick  ones  about 
him  in  the  English  capital.  But  here,  instead  of 
driving  through  narrow  dirty  streets,  he  was  travers- 
ing clean  spacious  thoroughfares ;  and,  oddest  of  all, 
here  were  walk-ways  at  the  side  for  pedestrians. 

As  a  nobleman  of  France,  and  introduced  by  the 
French  ambassador,  Lafayette  was  handsomely  re- 
ceived in  English  court  circles.  The  young  marquis 
gaily  attended  dinners,  balls,  routs,  and  the  opera- 
He  met  England's  most  noted  statesmen,  courtiers, 
men  of  letters,  ladies  of  rank,  wits,  belles,  and  beaux. 

With  the  secret  plans  he  had  in  his  head,  it  was 
an  odd  experience  when  he  was  presented  by  his 


26  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

uncle  to  the  King  of  England — the  king  he  was 
going  to  fight.  He  found  the  ceremony  of  pres- 
entation at  the  English  court  different  from  that 
of  the  court  of  France.  He  was  used  to  seeing  his 
half-dressed  sovereign  giving  audience  in  the  royal 
bedchamber,  scarcely  speaking  to  most  of  those  pre- 
sented, and  principally  occupied  with  the  process 
of  being  robed  by  a  retinue  of  nobles.  And  such, 
a  little  earlier,  had  been  the  practice  in  England. 
But  the  custom  of  George  III  was  to  go  over  to  St. 
James's  Palace  from  Buckingham  House,  in  his 
royal  sedan-chair,  and  to  hold  a  levee  in  which  he 
walked  about  the  room  and  spoke  to  all  present.  So 
this  was  the  monarch  who  was  trying  to  crush  those 
struggling  colonies  in  America!  A  well-appearing 
royal  personage  in  the  main ;  a  figure  of  good  height, 
not  much  too  stout  as  yet,  and  of  dignified  bearing. 
However,  the  whole  kingly  effect  was  rather  spoiled 
by  white  eyebrows,  and  certain  indications  of  too 
close  association  with  Bacchus. 

Lafayette's  fine  sense  of  honor  alone  saved  him 
from  making  mistakes  in  London.  He  was  a  guest 
of  England;  and  he  was  at  the  same  time  secretly 
an  officer  in  the  army  of  her  enemy.  Many  times 
his  English  acquaintances  puzzled  over  his  refusal 
to  see  interesting  things  and  places, — things  and 
places  that  Lafayette  felt  might  afford  him  military 
information  to  which  he  was  not  entitled.  He  espe- 


FRENCH  NOBLE  AND  ENGLISH  KING    27 

cially  refused  to  visit  the  seaports  where  expeditions 
were  fitting  out  against  the  colonies. 

While  the  marquis  concealed  his  intentions,  he 
openly  avowed  his  sentiments,  and  often  defended 
the  Americans  in  this  capital  of  their  enemies.  At 
length  it  was  time  for  his  ship  to  be  ready.  With 
a  suddenness  that  almost  excited  the  suspicions  of 
his  uncle  he  cut  his  visit  short  and  returned  to 
France. 


CHAPTER  III 

LAFAYETTE  GOES  TO  AMERICA 

IT  was  on  March  12,  1777,  that  Lafayette  ar- 
rived in  Paris.  He  went  to  the  house  of  an  of- 
ficer, Johann  Kalb,  who  was  to  accompany  him  to 
America.  There  he  remained  concealed  for  several 
days,  making  final  preparations  for  his  voyage.  The 
young  noble  felt  that  he  could  not  go  to  take  leave 
of  his  young  wife  and  their  baby  girl,  Henriette, 
for  the  Due  d'Ayen  would  at  once  secure  the  king's 
order  for  his  arrest.  So,  heavy-hearted,  he  left  a 
letter  to  be  delivered  later,  and  then  secretly  set  out 
upon  his  great  adventure.  It  was  on  the  evening  of 
March  16  that  he  and  Kalb  took  post  to  go  to  the 
waiting  ship,  and  three  days  later  they  drove  into 
Bordeaux.  Through  the  narrow,  crooked  streets 
in  the  old  part  of  town  the  two  found  their  way  to 
the  waterfront,  and  to  the  vessel  that  the  marquis 
had  bought. 

There  she  lay,  such  as  she  was,  an  awkward, 
heavy  craft,  armed  with  two  old  cannon  and  a  few 
muskets.  But  what  a  wonderful  ship  she  was  to  the 
boy  adventurer !  His  own  ship,  to  bear  him  across 
the  sea  to  fight  for  liberty ! 

28 


LAFAYETTE  GOES  TO  AMERICA     29 

However,  the  marquis  was  not  at  the  end  of  his 
troubles.  Evidently  his  parting  letter  had  been  de- 
livered too  soon ;  for  now  he  learned  that  the  king's 
interdict  had  issued  to  prevent  his  sailing.  Couriers 
to  stop  him  were  even  now  on  the  way.  And  La 
Victoire  not  ready  for  sea,  and  without  her  papers ! 
Lafayette  plunged  into  the  work  of  fitting  his  ship, 
hoping  to  escape  before  the  royal  order  could  be 
served.  At  last,  except  for  her  papers,  La  Victoire 
was  ready,  several  young  officers  who  were  to  go 
with  the  marquis  were  aboard,  and  the  wind  prom- 
ised fair.  It  was  resolved  to  sail  at  once,  and  to 
put  in  at  the  nearest  Spanish  port  for  the  ship's 
papers. 

So,  on  March  26,  La  Victoire  weighed  anchor  and 
stood  down  the  river  toward  the  sea.  It  was  a 
fit  morning  for  a  start  upon  so  glorious  an  adven- 
ture, a  morning  of  glorious  weather.  Along  the 
river  banks  were  beautiful  country-seats,  ancient 
convents,  and  picturesque  villages, — la  belle  France 
looking  her  best  at  the  hour  of  parting.  Reaching 
the  open  sea,  the  voyagers  turned  southward  and 
wearily  beat  their  course  against  the  strong  shore 
current  down  the  sand-waste  coast  of  France.  On 
March  28  they  ran  into  the  first  Spanish  port,  the 
beautiful  little  landlocked  harbor,  Los  Pasages. 

But  the  little  harbor  did  not  long  look  beautiful 
to  Lafayette.  He  found  at  Los  Pasages  what  he 
had  escaped  at  Bordeaux, — two  officers  of  his  king 


30  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

with  a  lettre  de  cachet  commanding  him  to  return 
to  France,  and  to  await  further  orders  at  Marseilles. 
Though  now  beyond  the  jurisdiction  of  France, 
such  a  command  from  his  king  could  not  well  be 
defied.  He  left  La  Victoire  in  charge  of  his  com- 
panions, and  dejectedly  started  back  with  the  officers, 
though  still  hoping  for  a  way  of  escape. 

Just  after  crossing  the  boundary  line  into  France, 
they  passed  through  a  village.  The  perturbed 
Lafayette  scarcely  noticed  this  quaint  little  bathing- 
place,  St.  Jean  de  Luz.  But  St.  Jean  de  Luz  noticed 
him,  or  at  least  the  daughter  of  the  post-house 
keeper  did.  And  soon  to  this  girl  he  was  to  owe  his 
getting  to  America. 

Traveling  on  up  the  coast  of  France,  Lafayette 
came  again  to  Bordeaux,  from  which,  with  high 
hopes,  he  had  so  recently  sailed.  There  he  wrote 
many  letters  to  ministers,  family,  and  friends,  try- 
ing to  vindicate  himself  and  get  permission  to  sail. 
He  soon  saw  that  his  efforts  were  useless,  and  re- 
solved again  upon  flight.  He  planned  the  attempt 
with  a  young  friend,  the  Vicomte  de  Mauroy,  who 
now  joined  him  at  Bordeaux,  and  who  also  wished 
to  go  to  America.  Leaving  the  commandant  at 
Bordeaux  to  suppose  that  he  was  going  to  Marseilles, 
in  compliance  with  the  king's  order,  Lafayette  with 
his  friend  set  out  from  the  town  in  a  post-chaise. 
Outside  the  town  they  changed  their  course,  and 


LAFAYETTE  GOES  TO  AMERICA     31 

took  the  road  leading  back  toward  the  little  Span- 
ish port  and  La  Victoire. 

That  was  not  all.  In  a  little  while,  any  govern- 
ment officers  overtaking  that  post-chaise  would  have 
found  but  a  single  individual  riding  in  it,  the  Vi- 
comte  de  Mauroy,  who  was  not  the  gentleman  they 
might  be  looking  for.  As  was  the  custom,  the  vi- 
comte  had  a  postboy  on  horseback  far  ahead  to  secure 
inn  accommodations  and  fresh  horses  for  the  car- 
riage. He  was  a  rather  long  and  not  very  graceful 
postboy,  and  his  complexion  and  hair  may  have 
looked  somewhat  artificial;  but  the  desperate  hope 
was,  anyway,  that  no  one  would  recognize  him  as 
the  Marquis  de  Lafayette. 

On  went  postboy  and  post-chaise  in  their  flight 
toward  the  Spanish  border.  Now  they  were  almost 
there,  the  postboy  galloping  into  the  last  of  the 
French  villages,  St.  Jean  de  Luz.  An  hour  more 
and  he  would  be  aboard  La  Victoire!  Then  the 
thing  happened.  The  postboy  saw  the  girl  of  St. 
Jean  de  Luz;  and  the  girl  of  St.  Jean  de  Luz  saw 
him.  And  there  was  recognition  in  her  eyes !  And 
she  the  daughter  of  the  keeper  of  the  post! 

In  that  tense  moment,  in  that  quick  eye-play  be- 
tween the  girl  and  the  fugitive  lay  the  to-be  or  the 
not-to-be  of  Lafayette's  career  in  America.  A  sig- 
nal from  him,  and  his  danger  passed.  The  girl  un- 
derstood, and  adroitly  turned  the  matter  aside.  Out 
of  the  inn  yard,  and  off  upon  his  way  again,  gal- 


32  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

loped  the  postboy  nobleman.  Officers  came  dashing 
into  the  village  close  upon  his  trail.  Again  the 
Marquis  de  Lafayette  and  the  United  States  of 
America  were  to  owe  much  to  the  girl  of  St.  Jean 
de  Luz.  Quick  and  resourceful,  she  misled  the 
officers;  the  last  precious  moments  of  their  pursuit 
were  wasted;  and  Lafayette  went  joyfully  over  the 
border. 

On  Sunday,  April  20,  1777,  La  Viet  owe  sailed 
out  of  the  little  Spanish  harbor  of  Los  Pasages, 
bound  for  the  port  of  Charleston,  capital  of  the 
colony  (now  bravely  calling  itself  the  state)  of 
South  Carolina,  in  the  land  of  America.  Quite 
promptly  both  seasickness  and  homesickness  assailed 
Lafayette.  In  his  suffering  he  wrote  to  his  girl 
wife: 

I  am  writing  to  you  from  a  great  distance,  my  dearest 
love.  .  .  .  How  many  fears  and  anxieties  enhance  the 
keen  anguish  I  feel  at  being  separated  from  all  that  I 
love  most  fondly  in  the  world !  How  have  you  borne  my 
second  departure?  have  you  loved  me  less?  have  you 
pardoned  me?  ...  I  hope  that  for  my  sake  you  will 
become  a  good  American,  for  that  feeling  is  worthy  of 
every  noble  heart. 

Baffling  winds,  and  heavy,  plodding  ship.  The 
voyage  seemed  stretching  out  endlessly.  Lafayette 
took  up  the  study  of  the  language  he  should  soon 
have  to  use.  A  sick,  lonely  boy  at  sea,  wrestling 
with  that  lawless  monster,  English  speech.  x  At 
last  the  lookout  sighted  land.  America!  Yes,  but 
where  in  America?  No  one  could  tell.  Con- 


LAFAYETTE  GOES  TO  AMERICA     33 

fused,  they  ran  for  several  days  along  a  low-lying 
coast,  offering  no  harbor.  The  sea  rolled  in  upon 
a  continuous  hard  sandy  beach,  for  the  most  part 
white  as  snow,  behind  it  a  green  wall  of  palmetto 
and  pine.  At  length,  upon  Friday,  June  13,  they 
came  to  an  opening  in  the  coast,  apparently  an 
inlet,  but  not  even  the  captain  had  any  knowledge 
of  it.  Here  they  cast  anchor. 

Lafayette  and  some  of  the  officers  set  out  in  the 
ship's  yawl  to  find  a  landing.  They  entered  the  inlet 
about  the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  and  rowed  up 
a  little  waterway  for  hours  through  an  apparently 
uninhabited  country.  Long  after  nightfall  they 
came  upon  a  few  negroes  tonging  for  oysters.  The 
negroes  guided  them  to  a  little  landing,  and  they 
made  their  way  toward  a  light  shining  from  a 
distant  house.  As  they  approached,  dogs  barked 
and  a  voice  called  out  in  the  darkness.  They  re- 
sponded in  their  best  English,  and  soon  found  them- 
selves the  welcome  guests  of  an  American  officer, 
Major  Benjamin  Huger.  It  proved  that  La  Victoire 
had  come  to  anchor  off  Winyah  Bay,  some  fifty 
miles  up  the  Carolina  coast  from  her  intended  des- 
tination, Charleston.  Sending  a  pilot  to  take  her 
to  that  port,  the  marquis  with  his  companions  re- 
mained at  Major  Huger's. 

How  Lafayette,  wherever  he  went,  touched  other 
lives  with  the  romance  of  his  own !  That  night  the 


34  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

eyes  of  young  Francis  Huger,  the  little  son  of  the 
house,  were  wide  and  bright  with  the  sense  of  ad- 
venture. The  mysterious  ship  from  across  the  sea, 
waiting  in  the  night  down  the  bay;  the  elegant 
French  nobleman  landing  in  the  swamps  and  the 
darkness  to  fight  for  America!  But  wider  and 
brighter  would  those  young  eyes  have  been  if  the 
boy  could  have  known  that  one  day,  in  a  far  land, 
he  was  to  cross  paths  with  this  nobleman  again,  and 
was  to  risk  his  own  life  for  him.  Now,  Lafayette, 
himself  but  a  boy,  was  enjoying  the  success  of  his 
own  adventure.  The  long  struggle  to  reach  America 
was  over.  He  was  safe  in  the  land  where  he  was 
to  draw  his  sword  for  liberty. 

He  awakened  next  morning  keenly  alive  to  his 
new  and  strange  surroundings :  the  unaccustomed 
room  of  a  Southern  plantation  house,  the  bed  oddly 
covered  with  mosquito  netting,  the  turbaned  black 
servants  who  came  to  wait  upon  him.  He  rose  and 
looked  from  his  window.  It  was  a  beautiful  morn- 
ing, and  he  looked  out  upon  a  strange  and  beautiful 
scene.  It  was  a  scene  of  luxuriant  verdure,  little 
of  which  was  familiar  to  him.  And  the  strange 
freshness  of  it  all,  and  the  ardor  of  his  young  soul 
for  liberty  in  this  new  land,  filled  him  with  inde- 
scribable emotions. 

Lafayette  and  his  companions  tarried  at  Major 
Huger's  two  or  three  days,  and  then  went  to  Charles- 
ton. This  was  a  small  city  numbering  about  fifteen 


LAFAYETTE  GOES  TO  AMERICA     35 

thousand  people.  But  it  was  the  Paris  of  America. 
The  governing1  class  of  the  province  lived  there; 
it  was  the  resort  of  the  aristocracy  of  planters,  and 
the  center  of  slave-holding  wealth  and  pride  and 
power.  As  a  result,  it  was  a  city  of  handsome  build- 
ings, notable  refinement  of  life,  and  was  much 
given  to  pleasure  and  display.  As  soon  as  the  ar- 
rival of  the  travel-worn  Frenchmen  came  to  be 
known  in  the  town,  they  were  given  the  most  hos- 
pitable reception.  Lafayette  thought  Charleston  one 
of  the  handsomest  and  most  agreeable  cities  he  had 
ever  seen.  But  he  was  not  so  much  taken  up  with 
the  city  as  to  overlook  the  beauty  of  its  daughters, 
and  his  French  gallantry  struggled  bravely  with  an 
unknown  tongue. 

One  noonday  La  Victoire  came  tacking  into  the 
harbor.  Lafayette  supposed  that  the  sale  of  her 
cargo  would  give  him  and  his  companions  abundant 
funds.  But  to  his  dismay  he  found  that,  in  haste 
to  escape  from  France,  he  had  unwittingly  signed 
an  agreement  which  precluded  his  realizing  any- 
thing at  present  upon  either  cargo  or  ship.  It  was 
an  embarrassing  beginning  in  the  new  land,  for  he 
had  to  borrow  money  for  the  trip  to  Philadelphia, 
where  he  and  his  fellow-officers  would  obtain  their 
army  positions. 

On  June  25  the  French  company  bade  farewell 
to  the  metropolis  of  the  South.  The  little  procession 
made  an  odd  appearance  as  it  got  under  way.  At 


36  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

the  head  rode  one  of  the  marquis's  people  in  a 
huzzar's  uniform.  Next  came  an  open  carriage 
containing  Lafayette  and  Kalb,  one  of  Lafayette's 
servants  riding  alongside  as  his  squire.  Other  car- 
riages followed  with  officers  or  luggage;  and  (after 
the  manner  of  the  new  land)  the  rear  was  brought 
up  by  a  negro  on  horseback.  The  rather  imposing 
character  of  this  cavalcade  did  not  last  long.  The 
rough  roads  wrecked  the  carriages,  some  of  the 
horses  went  lame,  some  of  the  party  fell  ill,  and 
some  went  afoot.  But  the  travelers  pressed  on,  sup- 
ported by  agreeable  memories  of  their  reception  at 
Charleston,  and  by  pleasant  anticipations  of  a  like 
greeting  at  Philadelphia,  if  they  could  hold  out  to 
get  there. 

On  July  27,  after  some  eight  hundred  miles  of 
this  weary  travel,  the  little  company  entered  Phila- 
delphia. The  Quaker  City  of  that  day  contained 
thirty  thousand  inhabitants;  and,  as  far  as  it  went, 
was  the  same  precise  checker-board  city  that  it  is 
to-day.  It  was  well  paved;  had  wide,  clean  side- 
walks ;  was  fairly  lighted  at  night ;  and  was  in  many 
ways  ahead  of  the  times.  All  this  was  largely  due 
to  that  prominent  citizen  Benjamin  Franklin, 
through  whose  genius  Philadelphians  also  had 
lightning-rods,  Franklin  stoves,  and  Poor  Richard 
almanacs.  And  here  in  the  capital  of  the  American 
republic,  the  French  officers  learned  more  fully 
about  the  conflict  they  had  come  to  enter. 


LAFAYETTE  GOES  TO  AMERICA      37 

For  two  years  the  war  had  gone  on  without  any- 
thing approaching  decisive  results.  In  the  present 
campaign,  besides  smaller  forces  at  various  points, 
each  side  had  two  main  armies  in  the  field.  At  New 
York  was  a  British  army  under  General  Howe,  and 
opposing  it  from  points  near  by  was  an  American 
army  under  General  Washington ;  while  in  the  coun- 
try of  the  upper  Hudson  was  a  British  army  under 
General  Burgoyne,  and,  opposing  it,  an  American 
army  under  General  Schuyler  at  first,  and  later 
under  General  Gates. 

The  logical  plan  of  the  campaign  clearly  was  for 
the  English  to  seek  and  for  the  Americans  to  oppose 
a  union  of  the  two  British  armies.  Such  a  union, 
once  accomplished,  would  mean  English  control  of 
New  York  State,  and  would  cut  the  string  of  embryo 
states  in  two.  In  the  attempt  to  prevent  this  the 
American  commander-in-chief  had  to  face  a  serious 
problem. 

After  sending  to  Schuyler  some  of  his  own  best 
troops,  Washington  felt  confident  that  that  general 
would  be  able  to  keep  Burgoyne  from  making  much 
progress  southward  toward  a  junction  with  the 
forces  of  Howe;  but  a  more  difficult  undertaking 
would  fall  to  himself  in  preventing  Howe  from 
going  to  Burgoyne. 

Promptly  the  struggle  between  Schuyler  and  Bur- 
goyne began  in  the  wilds  of  the  upper  Hudson ;  but 
to  Washington's  amazement,  as  he  held  himself  in 


38  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

readiness  to  dispute  a  northward  march  of  Howe, 
that  general  made  no  move.  At  length,  four  days 
before  the  company  of  French  officers  arrived  in 
Philadelphia,  an  inexplicable  thing  had  happened. 
With  all  strategic  conditions  requiring  his  immediate 
advance  up  the  Hudson,  .Howe  had  suddenly  em- 
barked his  army,  and  disappeared  upon  the  ocean. 
Now  all  was  excitement  as  to  the  purpose  and  the 
probable  landing-place  of  the  British ;  and  Washing- 
ton, in  his  encampment  near  New  York,  was  anx- 
iously awaiting  information. 

The  French  officers  were  highly  interested  in  this 
state  of  military  affairs,  and  they  lost  no  time  in 
trying  to  enter  the  drama.  Their  way  to  the  Con- 
gress led  to  a  little-developed  portion  of  Chestnut 
Street  where  there  was  an  ill-kept  park, — a  walled 
park  in  those  days,  and  a  great  gateway  gave  en- 
trance. There  stood  the  Pennsylvania  State  House, 
where  the  Declaration  of  Independence  had  been 
adopted  and  where  Congress  now  sat.  It  was  al- 
ready beginning  to  be  called  Independence  Hall. 
It  appeared  then  virtually  as  it  does  to-day,  a  noble, 
beautiful  building,  well  worthy  the  honor  that  came 
to  it. 

Lafayette,  afire  with  enthusiasm,  his  heart  beating 
high,  approached  this  birthplace  of  American  lib- 
erty. But  it  was  there  he  was  to  meet  the  disappoint- 
ment of  his  life.  The  little  party  reached  the  door 
of  Independence  Hall,  and  that  was  as  far  as  they 


LAFAYETTE  GOES  TO  AMERICA     39 

got.  They  were  met  by  one  or  two  members  of 
Congress,  and  so  coolly  as  to  leave  them  stupified. 
They  were  given  to  understand  that  Mr.  Deane 
had  exceeded  his  authority  in  commissioning  them, 
and  that  they  were  not  needed,  and  were  not  wanted. 

Amazed,  and  scarcely  comprehending  such  treat- 
ment, they  turned  away.  Unnecessarily  brusque  as 
their  dismissal  was,  it  was  not  wholly  without  rea- 
son. Numerous  foreigners  had  already  succeeded 
in  getting  commissions  in  the  American  Army,  and 
most  of  them  had  proved  worthless  adventurers. 
It  was,  all  unknowingly,  upon  the  heels  of  such  a 
rabble  that  Lafayette  and  his  companions  knocked 
at  the  door  of  Congress.  To  most  of  the  French 
company  that  chill  reception  seemed  final.  Not  so 
to  Lafayette.  He  prepared  an  address  to  Congress, 
all  of  which  would  likely  have  been  in  vain  but 
for  one  most  surprising  and  felicitous  passage.  He 
declared  that,  after  all  the  sacrifice  he  had  made, 
he  had  a  right  to  ask  Congress  to  allow  him  to  serve 
in  the  American  army  without  pay,  and  at  first 
as  a  volunteer.  Such  terms,  so  different  from  the 
bumptious  demands  of  other  foreign  officers,  and 
showing  such  disinterested  zeal  for  the  cause,  were 
at  once  accepted.  The  young  French  officer  was 
commissioned  by  Congress  as  a  major-general  in 
the  American  army  on  July  31,  1777,  but  was  not 
promised  an  immediate  command. 

Nor  did  destiny  give  any  promise  that  day  of 


40  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

what  it  had  in  store  as  a  result  of  that  most  fortu- 
nate commission.  Fate  kept  to  herself  the  fact 
that  this  coolly  received  French  boy  was  to  become 
the  idol  of  the  American  people ;  that  soon  this  Con- 
gress was  to  be  proud  to  present  to  him  a  magnifi- 
cent sword;  and  finally  that,  in  a  strange  way,  the 
blade  of  that  sword  was  to  disappear,  but  the  golden 
hilt  was  to  become  part  of  the  Sword  of  Liberty. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE   WOUNDED   BOY    FROM    FRANCE 

ABOUT  the  end  of  July,  1777,  it  was  reported 
that  the  British  fleet  had  been  seen  off  Dela- 
ware Bay.  Philadelphia  was  in  danger.  General 
Washington  marched  his  army  southward  almost  to 
the  town,  and  himself  went  on  and  spent  some 
days  in  the  little  capital.  Now  came  that  first  meet- 
ing between  the  young  French  knight  of  liberty  and 
the  American  hero  of  all  his  dreams.  A  dinner  party 
was  given  to  the  commander-in-chief,  at  which  La- 
fayette was  a  guest.  There  his  eager  young  eyes 
quickly  singled  out,  from  the  throng  of  officers  and 
dignitaries,  the  great  leader. 

That  night  the  young  marquis  was  beholding 
Washington  in  his  prime.  The  American  com- 
mander was  then  about  forty-five  years  of  age,  and 
in  the  unusually  vigorous  health  that  was  providen- 
tially granted  him  in  those  trying  days.  Towering 
above  the  men  about  him  he  stood  there,  well  over 
six  feet  tall,  admirably  proportioned,  as  straight 
as  an  Indian,  and  muscled  to  magnificent  power. 
His  head,  though  not  large,  was  well  shaped,  and 
finely  poised.  His  countenance  was  remarkable, — 


42  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

agreeable,  even  benignant,  and  yet  of  commanding1 
force.  Beneath  a  strong  forehead,  penetrating  blue- 
gray  eyes  looked  out,  wide  apart;  the  nose,  strong 
and  straight,  was  a  little  too  heavy,  though  that 
was  scarcely  noticed  in  the  general  strength  of  the 
face ;  a  large,  firm  mouth  took  added  firmness  from 
a  rather  projecting  lower  jaw.  The  hair  was  brown, 
though  of  course  well-powdered  now,  and  was  gath- 
ered back  into  a  cue.  But  striking  face  and  striking 
figure  were  not  all.  Everything  about  General 
Washington  would  serve  to  hold  Lafayette's  gaze. 
The  calm,  impressive  dignity;  the  unlooked-for 
gracefulness  in  a  man  of  such  size;  and  above  all, 
the  simple  natural  air  of  authority. 

At  length  came  the  meeting  between  the  young 
French  courtier  and  the  big,  aristocratic  Virginian. 
Now  the  marquis,  on  closer  view,  would  notice  a 
physical  blemish  hi  his  idol.  Smallpox  had  scarred 
the  noble  countenance,  though  little  would  the  boy 
think  of  that  in  so  imposing  a  presence.  That  pres- 
ence, that  natural  stateliness  of  Washington,  im- 
pressed all  the  notable  Europeans  who  visited  the 
United  States  during  the  war. 

Of  course  the  conversation  that  night  between 
Washington  and  Lafayette  had  its  difficulties,  for 
the  former  could  not  speak  French,  and  the  latter 
was  making  his  first  essays  at  English.  But  the 
young  Frenchman  managed  'to  commend  himself, 
and  was  invited  to  make  the  quarters  of  the  com- 


THE  WOUNDED  BOY  FROM  FRANCE     43 

mander-in-chief  his  home,  and  to  consider  himself 
at  all  times  one  of  the  General's  military  family. 
Thus  began  a  friendship  that  ripened  rapidly,  and 
that  was  destined  to  unite  these  two  men  in  unusual 
intimacy. 

Conflicting  reports  about  the  British  fleet  held 
Washington's  army  near  Philadelphia ;  and  about  the 
middle  of  August  Lafayette  joined  it,  and  began  his 
long  and  faithful  service  in  the  American  cause. 
As  he  rode  into  camp  he  found  the  commander-in- 
chief  just  about  to  review  the  troops.  The  marquis 
was  added  to  the  reviewing  party,  and  thereupon 
had  a  sudden  and  surprising  revelation  of  the  des- 
perate condition  of  the  patriots.  Before  him  passed 
the  principal  army  of  the  Americans,  the  main  hope 
of  the  new  nation,  and  it  was  a  sorry  sight.  Per- 
haps eleven  thousand  men,  poorly  armed,  worse  clad, 
and  in  unsoldierly  array. 

Soon  news  arrived  that  Howe's  fleet  was  coming 
up  Chesapeake  Bay.  That  meant  an  attack  upon 
Philadelphia.  Immediately  Washington  marched 
his  army  below  the  city  to  protect  it.  He  took  up 
his  position  on  the  north  bank  of  a  shallow,  lazy 
little  river  called  the  Brandywine.  His  center  cov- 
ered the  main  crossing-place,  Chadd's  Ford,  while 
his  wings  guarded  other  fords  up  and  down  the 
stream.  He  established  headquarters  near  the  cen- 
ter, a  little  back  from  the  river,  and  Lafayette's 
post  was  with  him. 


44  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

On  September  n  the  British,  marching  up  from 
the  head  of  the  Chesapeake,  eighteen  thousand 
strong,  reached  the  Brandywine,  and  engaged  the 
American  center  at  Chadd's  Ford.  It  was  a  spirited 
attack,  and,  owing  to  the  wooded  nature  of  the 
country,  Washington  could  not  know  whether  it 
was  in  full  force  or  not.  But  it  was  not.  A  large 
part  of  Howe's  army  was  then  making  a  long 
detour  that  would  carry  it  across  the  Brandywine 
above  the  guarded  fords.  Through  a  confusion 
of  despatches,  Washington  did  not  learn  this  at 
first.  Suddenly  a  countryman  rode  up  and  insisted 
upon  seeing  the  commander-in-chief.  He  declared 
that  British  forces  had  crossed  the  river  at  higher 
fords,  and  were  coming  down  on  that  side  so  rapidly 
that  the  Americans  soon  would  be  surrounded. 
"My  life  for  it!"  he  cried.  "Put  me  under  guard, 
General,  until  you  find  it's  true!"  At  the  same 
moment  came  despatches  confirming  the  man's 
story. 

Instantly  Washington  sent  troops  to  support  the 
endangered  right  wing;  and  with  them  went  a  boy 
officer  with  the  best  fighting-blood  of  France  in  his 
veins.  The  marquis  found  the  Americans  broken 
by  the  unexpected  attack  of  the  British,  who  had 
crossed  the  stream  above  them.  Recklessly  imperil- 
ing his  life  in  trying  to  rally  the  panic-stricken 
soldiers,  he  became  one  of  the  heroes  of  the  day. 
He  was  soon  wounded,  a  musket  ball  passing 


THE  WOUNDED  BOY  FROM  FRANCE     45 

through  his  left  leg.  But  he  held  the  field,  and 
helped  to  prevent  a  general  rout.  However,  the 
American  center  also  now  gave  way,  and  the  whole 
army  fell  back  toward  Philadelphia.  In  the  retreat, 
Lafayette,  with  his  leg  temporarily  bandaged,  was 
carried  along  by  the  resistless  mass  toward  Chester. 
Night  fell.  Lafayette  attempted  to  make  a  stand 
again.  At  a  bridge  on  the  outskirts  of  Chester,  he 
threw  out  guards  and  succeeded  in  stopping  the 
torrent  of  fugitives. 

That  night  General  Washington  was  almost 
fatherly  in  his  solicitude  as  he  directed  the  surgeon 
to  care  for  the  young  French  officer.  And  at  mid- 
night, as  Lafayette  lay  in  pain  but  in  happiness  too, 
his  commander-in-chief  was  despatching  to  Con- 
gress the  report  of  the  battle,  and  making  special 
mention  of  the  injury  to  the  Marquis  de  Lafayette. 
Indeed,  it  would  have  been  hard  to  teli  which  of  the 
two,  the  boy  or  his  great  leader,  was  the  prouder 
of  that  wound.  A  wound  that,  long  afterward,  the 
unemotional  Washington  characterized  as  "the 
tribute  that  Lafayette  paid  to  gallantry  at  the 
Brandy  wine." 

Though  the  disorderly  flight  of  American  troops 
had  been  stayed  at  Chester,  yet  the  retreat  itself 
would  have  to'  continue.  And  so,  some  time  after 
Lafayette's  wound  was  dressed,  he  was  borne  out 
through  the  dark,  disturbed  streets  of  the  little 
village,  and  placed  in  a  boat,  to  be  carried  up  the 


46  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

Delaware.  About  daylight,  to  one  of  the  many 
rude  piers  that  then  jutted  from  the  low  water-front 
of  Philadelphia,  came  the  little  ambulance  boat. 
The  marquis  was  tenderly  lifted  and  carried  into 
the  city.  And  it  was  into  a  scene  of  excitement 
and  confusion.  Speeding  couriers  had  brought 
hither  the  news  of  Washington's  defeat  at  the 
Brandywine,  and  Philadelphia  seemed  doomed  to 
capture.  Royalists  were  rejoicing;  while  patriots 
were  filled  with  consternation,  and  were  hurriedly 
preparing  for  flight.  Congress  itself  was  on  the 
eve  of  departure. 

In  the  midst  of  the  commotion  Lafayette  was 
carried  to  the  Indian  Queen  Inn,  which  stood  at 
the  corner  of  Fourth  and  Market  streets.  Here  he 
was  attended  by  admiring  citizens.  But  the  thoughts 
of  the  young  marquis  turned  to  his  wife,  and  from 
the  old  inn  went  a  characteristically  engaging  letter 
to  her.  It  was  an  almost  amusing  mixture  of  tender 
care  not  to  alarm  her,  and  of  boyish  pride  in  his 
wound.  It  was  full  of  brave  brightness  as  he  lay 
there  worn  and  wounded  in  a  far  land,  amid  the 
clamor  of  the  frightened,  distracted  city.  Many 
members  of  Congress  came  hurriedly  to  see  him, 
some  booted  and  spurred  and  ready  for  flight.  But 
they  provided  for  his  safety  also.  Soon,  in  a  boat 
got  ready  upon  their  orders,  and  with  his  attendants 
and  baggage,  he  was  taken  on  up  the  river  to  Bristol. 

There  he  found  several  members  of  the  fleeing 


THE  WOUNDED  BOY  FROM  FRANCE     47 

Congress  on  their  way  to  reassemble  beyond  the 
Schuylkill.  Among  these  was  one  of  the  most  promi- 
nent of  the  patriots,  Henry  Laurens.  He  took  the 
wounded  marquis  into  his  carriage  to  convey  him 
to  a  little  settlement  in  the  Pennsylvania  foot-hills, 
called  Bethlehem,  where  the  Americans  had  a  mili- 
tary hospital.  For  the  long  drive,  these  chance  fel- 
low-travelers were  not  ill  met.  Laurens  was  a  native 
of  the  state  upon  whose  hospitable  shores  the  mar- 
quis had  lately  landed,  and  (like  Lafayette's  first 
host,  Major  Huger)  was  of  French  Huguenot 
descent.  But  rough,  jolting  roads  and  a  wounded 
leg  were  a  less  happy  combination,  and  the  marquis 
watched  eagerly  for  the  first  glimpse  of  Bethlehem. 

That  glimpse  came  with  striking  abruptness.  Out 
from  the  primeval  wilderness  of  new  America,  the 
travelers  came  suddenly  upon  a  walled  town  of  old 
Europe.  At  least  it  looked  that  way.  An  opening 
in  the  wooded  hills  disclosed  a  settlement  of  long 
stone  houses  in  rows,  with  many  connecting  stone 
walls.  A  peculiar-looking  place  belonging  to  a 
peculiar  people,  the  Moravians. 

The  war  had  brought  a  rude  awakening  to  these 
gentle,  isolated  folk  in  their  little  village  of  Beth- 
lehem. Theirs  was  the  gospel  of  non-resistance; 
and,  refusing  to  join  in  the  struggle  against  the 
King  of  England,  they  were  often  condemned  as 
royalists  by  the  patriots,  and  sometimes  persecuted. 
Just  now  some  of  their  buildings  were  being  used 


48  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

as  a  hospital  for  the  American  army.  However, 
that  was  not  persecution ;  for  the  care  of  the  suffer- 
ing appealed  to  the  Moravians,  and  their  hearts  as 
well  as  their  doors  opened  to  the  afflicted. 

Into  this  once  so  peaceful  but  now  disquieted  vil- 
lage, came  the  carriage  bearing  the  wounded  Lafay- 
ette, on  September  21,  as  the  Sunday  sun  was 
setting.  The  little  settlement  was  crowded.  Here 
were  soldiers  on  guard,  and  refugees  from  Phila- 
delphia, and  wagon-trains  of  wounded  from  the 
Brandywine.  Through  a  scene  of  confusion  the 
Laurens  carriage  brought  Lafayette  to  the  broad, 
many-windowed  front  of  the  old  Sun  Inn.  The  inn 
was  already  filled,  among  its  guests  being  several 
members  of  Congress  and  some  officers  of  the 
army.  But  the  marquis  was  carried  up  the  steps 
to  the  white  portico;  and  mine  host  Jost  Jensen, 
good-natured  giant,  crowded  somebody  a  little  more 
that  the  wounded  officer  might  have  a  place  for  the 
night. 

Next  day  Lafayette  was  moved  from  the  crowded 
inn  to  the  Boeckel  home  near  by.  There  he  was  to 
remain  until  well  again.  He  was  attentively  nursed 
by  Mrs.  Boeckel,  in  her  little  white  cap  tied  with 
a  blue  ribbon,  and  the  pretty  daughter  of  the  house, 
Liesel,  in  her  little  white  cap  tied  with  a  pink  ribbon. 
For  in  Bethlehem,  be  it  known,  matrimony  wrought 
this  change  in  the  color  scheme. 

Lafayette  suffered  a  good  deal  from  his  wound, 


THE  WOUNDED  BOY  FROM  FRANCE     49 

but  he  had  the  best  of  surgical  aid.  Washington 
sent  to  him  his  surgeon-in-chief  with  admonitions 
to  care  for  the  boy  as  though  he  were  the  general's 
own  son.  The  patient's  main  trouble  was  worry 
over  his  enforced  inaction.  And  that  would  wear 
upon  him  the  more  as  he  learned  how  his  "dear 
general,"  still  forced  backward  by  Howe,  was  com- 
pelled to  let  Philadelphia  fall  into  the  hands  of  the 
enemy. 

Day  after  day,  looking  out  upon  the  quaint  vil- 
lage street,  this  ardent,  imprisoned  lover  of  liberty 
would  see  everywhere  the  signs  of  liberty's  defeat. 
Now,  dismally  heavier  the  stream  of  refugees  rolled 
in  from  the  fallen  city.  Wagon-trains  of  public 
stores  and  of  army  supplies  were  trailing  by.  And 
one  day  came  a  wagon  bearing  a  monstrous  bell. 
Already  sacred,  it  was  the  great  bell  that  had  rung 
out  to  the  people  the  signing  of  the  Declaration  of 
Independence.  Unhung,  silenced,  fleeing  with  the 
rest,  was  this  very  emblem  of  American  freedom. 
As  though  humiliation  were  not  yet  great  enough, 
the  wagon  broke  down  in  the  village  street,  and 
in  dirt  and  debris  lay  the  Voice  of  Liberty! 

But  the  young  marquis  held  to  his  faith  and  his 
courage.  He  knew  that  Washington,  even  in  battle- 
defeat,  was  strategically  winning.  Having  sold 
Philadelphia  as  dearly  as  he  could,  he  would  now 
endeavor  to  make  it  for  Howe  not  a  prize  but  a 
prison,  a  prison  in  which  the  English  army  would 


50  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

be  held  when  it  ought  to  be  on  its  way  to  the  aid 
of  Burgoyne.  By  the  middle  of  October  Lafayette 
could  endure  inaction  no  longer.  Though  he  was 
unable  to  bear  a  boot  upon  his  injured  leg,  he  bade 
good-by  to  the  gentle  Moravians  and  set  out  for 
Washington's  headquarters. 

By  this  time,  the  main  army — still  threatening 
Howe,  and  acting  to  cut  off  his  supplies  at  Phila- 
delphia— was  occupying  a  position  about  twenty 
miles  north  of  the  city.  Lafayette  arrived  in  a 
camp  that  was  all  jubilant  uproar.  Out  of  the  North 
a  speeding  courier  had  just  brought  glorious  news 
to  headquarters :  Gates  was  victorious ;  Burgoyne 
and  his  whole  army  were  prisoners  of  war!  How 
joyously  the  young  marquis  plunged  into  the  camp 
celebration!  Not  even  he  could  detect  the  shadow 
that  lay  across  it  all  for  his  great  leader. 

No  one  could  have  excelled  General  Washington 
that  day  in  true  and  thankful  appreciation  of  this 
great  victory  of  the  American  arms ;  but  personally 
it  was  an  evil  day  for  him,  and  he  knew  it.  Fate 
had  not  been  kind  to  the  commander-in-chief  of  the 
American  army.  Though  no  other  man  could  have 
filled  his  place,  though  his  was  the  master  mind 
that  guided  the  Revolution  and  brought  victories 
to  other  generals,  yet  personal  victory  seldom  came 
to  him.  It  seemed  as  though  a  perverse  destiny 
deprived  him  of  successes  splendidly  earned,  and 
just  within  his  grasp. 


THE  WOUNDED  BOY  FROM  FRANCE     51 

Now  another  campaign  was  closing,  another 
campaign  of  technical  even  if  not  real  defeat  for  the 
main  American  army — the  army  under  his  imme- 
diate command.  Dissatisfaction  with  his  leadership 
was  springing  up;  unreasonable  and  as  yet  incon- 
siderable, but  manifest  and  growing.  And  here, 
almost  upon  the  heels  of  another  defeat  for  him, 
came  this  spectacular  triumph  of  one  of  his  gen- 
erals,— and  that  general  one  who  had  been  named 
more  than  once  in  connection  with  the  position  of 
commander-in-chief.  Even  as  the  great  Virginian 
wrote  his  congratulations  to  General  Gates,  even  as 
he  ordered  salvos  of  cannon  in  honor  of  his  victory, 
he  clearly  foresaw  the  cost  of  that  victory  to  him- 
self. 

Never  was  Washington  greater  than  at  this 
moment.  Knowing  that  his  own  defeats  had  been 
inevitable,  and  partly  for  want  of  choice  troops  of 
which  he  had  robbed  himself  to  reinforce  Gates; 
knowing  that  the  success  was  really  due  not  to  Gates 
but  to  his  predecessor,  Schuyler,  and  to  subordinate 
officers,  yet  the  commander-in-chief  held  his  peace, 
and  spoke  only  in  praise  and  thankfulness.  "If  the 
cause  is  advanced,"  he  patriotically  declared,  "in- 
different is  it  to  me  in  what  quarter  it  happens." 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  SWORD   MEDALLION,    "GLOUCESTER" 

THE  evil  fruits  that  had  to  come  of  that 
glorious  success  in  the  North  quickly  ripened. 
Insidiously  was  spread  the  propaganda, — Washing- 
ton and  defeat;  Gates  and  victory.  A  party  arose 
in  Congress  whose  ultimate  purpose  was  a  change 
of  leaders ;  and  Gates,  in  every  way  untrue  to  Wash- 
ington, joined  this  cabal,  and  schemed  to  become 
commander-in-chief.  Washington  paid  no  heed, 
and  in  patience  and  dignity  went  on  with  his  duties. 
Toward  the  end  of  November,  1777,  news  came 
to  the  American  camp  just  north  of  Philadelphia, 
that  a  large  foraging  detachment  under  Cornwallis 
had  left  the  city  and  entered  New  Jersey.  Wash- 
ington ordered  Greene  with  his  division  to  follow 
and  if  practicable  to  give  battle.  Lafayette  obtained 
permission  to  accompany  the  expedition.  He  and 
Greene  had  come  to  be  warm  friends.  Greene  was 
much  impressed  with  the  "noble  enthusiasm"  that 
had  led  the  marquis  to  leave  "a  young  wife  and  a 
fine  fortune  of  fourteen  thousand  pounds  sterling 

52 


"GLOUCESTER"  53 

per  annum  to  come  and  engage  in  the  cause  of 
liberty." 

The  American  forces  proceeded  to  Mount  Holly, 
New  Jersey,  where  Greene  sent  Lafayette  forward 
with  three  hundred  men  to  reconnoiter  the  enemy's 
position.  A  small  detachment  and  ragged;  but  the 
boy  general  was  proud  of  his  first  command.  What 
delighted  him  most  was  that  he  had  a  few  of  the 
famous  Morgan  riflemen,  those  unequaled  fighters 
the  like  of  which  Europe  had  never  seen.  Clean- 
limbed, clear-eyed  men  in  buckskin  and  moccasins 
with  long-barreled,  deadly  rifles,  who  could  slip 
through  the  forest  as  silently  as  Indians. 

Lafayette  learned  that  Cornwallis  was  near 
Gloucester,  a  New  Jersey  town  on  the  Delaware 
a  little  below  Philadelphia,  He  found  the  British 
encamped  beside  a  creek  emptying  into  the  river. 
He  made  a  personal  reconnaissance,  stealing  out 
upon  a  small  tongue  of  land  so  far  that  it  seemed 
he  must  be  captured  or  shot.  Absolutely  fearless, 
before  him  the  example  of  Washington  (who  made 
most  daring  personal  observations  of  the  enemy), 
Lafayette  stopped  at  nothing  to  make  his  little 
expedition  a  success.  It  was  not  a  pleasant  scene 
that  the  keen  eyes  of  the  marquis  were  watching. 
Sleek,  well-fed,  well-clothed  soldiers  loading  their 
boats  with  forage,  while  the  American  forces,  even 
those  behind  him  then,  were  suffering  for  the  neces- 
sities of  life.  The  enemy  were  not  so  unconscious 


54  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

of  Lafayette's  presence  as  they  seemed.  All  this 
while  British  dragoons  were  stealing  around  to  in- 
tercept him.  But  he  discovered  them  and  made  a 
quick  retreat  to  his  troops. 

The  marquis  was  not  content  with  observation. 
He  fell  back,  crossed  the  creek,  and  marched  his 
detachment  straight  toward  the  British  camp.  With 
his  little  force,  he  could  only  skirmish,  but  he  was 
bent  upon  as  much  of  a  fight  as  he  could  make. 

He  soon  encountered  an  advance  post  of  Hes- 
sians, alone  outnumbering  the  Americans,  and 
having  cannon.  Lafayette  attacked  and  precipitated 
a  miniature  battle.  It  was  a  short-lived  one.  The 
Hessians  broke  in  full  retreat.  Pressing  them  hard, 
the  young  general  threw  out  pickets  at  the  cross- 
roads to  prevent  surprise  and  sent  a  little  band  to 
threaten  the  enemy's  right  flank.  Daylight  was 
going  now,  but  so  were  the  Hessians,  and  Lafayette 
kept  on.  Reinforcements  arrived  for  the  sleek, 
scarlet-coated  mercenaries,  fleeing  before  the  gaunt, 
ragged  Continentals.  But  that  only  made  so  many 
the  more  to  run.  Cornwallis,  alarmed,  came  up 
at  nightfall  with  his  grenadiers;  and  Lafayette's 
proud  little  army,  drums  beating,  drew  off  and  re- 
joined Greene's  division.  Although  Greene  was  not 
strong  enough  to  follow  up  this  spirited  reconnais- 
sance by  an  attack  in  force,  and  the  whole  detach- 
ment now  returned  to  headquarters,  yet  the  little 


"GLOUCESTER"  55 

affair  at  Gloucester  stood  out  a  bright  heartening 
bit  in  the  gloom  of  the  waning  campaign. 

The  next  day  Lafayette  sat  down  to  write  it  all 
to  Washington.  His  naive  views  and  his  quaint 
lapses  in  an  unaccustomed  language,  make  the  letter 
a  most  engaging  one.  Full  of  pride  and  pleasure, 
he  laboriously  assumed  an  air  of  calm  unconcern 
quite  becoming  a  major-general.  He  deprecated 
mentioning  the  matter  at  all,  yet  made  a  long  letter 
of  it.  Beginning  with  the  attractively  confused 
announcement,  "I  went  down  to  this  place  since  the 
day  before  yesterday,"  the  victorious  commander 
reported,  "We  got  yet  this  day  fourteen  prisoners." 
To  swell  the  dear  little  casualty  list  of  the  enemy, 
he  added  a  postscript :  "I  have  just  now  a  certain 
assurance  that  two  British  officers,  besides  those 
I  spoke  you  of,  have  died  this  morning  of  their 
wounds  in  an  house."  Greene's  favorable  report  to 
Washington  of  Lafayette's  expedition  concluded 
with  the  words,  "The  Marquis  is  determined  to  be 
in  the  way  of  danger." 

Such  was  the  skirmish  at  Gloucester.  A  small 
affair.  But  in  time  it  was  to  be  set  forth  with 
all  the  graver's  art  in  a  medallion  upon  that  noble 
sword  to  be  presented  by  the  Continental  Con- 
gress to  the  Marquis  de  Lafayette.  However,  not 
really  for  Gloucester,  nor  for  the  later  events  de- 
picted with  it,  but  for  what  those  events  typified,  was 
that  sword  to  be  presented.  The  cunning  of  the 


56  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

graver's  art  was  more  to  tell  of  a  boy's  wonderful 
love  of  freedom;  of  his  sacrifice  for  the  independ- 
ence of  a  faraway  land;  and  of  the  quick,  warm 
affection  which  that  land  had  come  to  bear  toward 
this  veritable  Knight  of  Liberty. 

Nobody  got  more  satisfaction  out  of  the  Glouces- 
ter affair  than  did  the  commander-in-chief.  The 
young  Frenchman  for  whom  he  felt  so  warm  an 
affection  had  now,  at  Brandywine  and  at  Glouces- 
ter, given  a  good  account  of  himself. 

It  was  time  for  this  ardent,  unattached  major- 
general  to  have  his  own  command.  And  he  got  it 
most  promptly.  On  the  very  day  that  Washington 
received  Lafayette's  boyish  account  of  his  second 
fight,  the  pleased  commander-in-chief  wrote  to  Con- 
gress suggesting  the  propriety  of  giving  him  a 
division.  And  on  the  same  day  that  Congress  re- 
ceived Washington's  letter,  it  passed  a  resolution 
declaring  that  it  was  "highly  agreeable  to  Congress 
that  the  Marquis  de  Lafayette  be  appointed  to  the 
command  of  a  division  in  the  Continental  Army." 
And  almost  on  the  day  that  Washington  received 
the  resolution  of  Congress,  an  order  from  headquar- 
ters was  issued  in  camp  that  "Major-General 
Marquis  de  Lafayette  is  to  take  the  Command 
of  the  Division  lately  Commanded  by  General 
Stephen."  And  his  twentieth  birthday  just  passed! 

The  division  referred  to  was  one  of  Virginians, — 
men  from  Washington's  own  state !  That  made  the 


GEORGE   WASHINGTON 
From   a   painting   by   C.    W.    Peale 


"GLOUCESTER"  57 

young  commander  doubly  proud  of  them,  although 
they  were  about  the  most  ragged  and  forlorn  of  that 
ragged  and  forlorn  array. 

The  campaign  of  1777  was  over,  and  the  Ameri- 
can commander-in-chief  looked  about  him  for  a 
place  that  would  serve  as  winter  quarters  for  his 
army.  There  were  many  things  to  be  considered 
in  choosing  such  a  place;  and  while  the  selection 
made  by  Washington  has  met  with  criticism,  it  was 
probably  the  best  that  could  have  been  made.  He 
knew  the  country,  and  he  could  judge  its  possibili- 
ties better  than  any  other  man.  At  such  a  time 
how  much  he  owed  to  his  youthful  experience  as  a 
surveyor!  His  eye  for  distance,  for  contour,  for 
every  feature  of  topography,  was  trained  and  ac- 
curate. 

His  choice  fell  upon  a  spot  on  the  right  bank  of 
the  Schuylkill,  about  twenty  miles  above  Philadel- 
phia. There,  among  the  foothills  of  the  Blue  Ridge, 
two  lofty  eminences  bank  the  river,  and  a  small 
tributary  stream,  Valley  Creek,  flows  in  between. 
The  creek,  with  a  little  iron-working  plant  that 
stood  near,  gave  name  to  the  place,  Valley  Forge. 

In  the  cold  of  a  severe  December,  the  miserable, 
ragged,  half-fed  army  abandoned  the  camp  near 
Philadelphia,  and  started  upon  its  march  to  the 
bleak  hills  chosen  for  winter  quarters.  Fortunately, 
even  in  the  hardships  of  that  march,  no  man  fore- 
visioned  the  suffering  and  the  agony  that  lay  ahead, 


58  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

that  for  all  time  should  fill  with  horror  the  very 
words  "Valley  Forge"! 

Present  misery  was  great  enough.  Over  the 
old  Gulf  Road,  through  snow  and  ice,  they  marched 
along  the  Schuylkill.  And  when,  at  last  they 
reached  their  destination,  behind  them  stretched  a 
trail  written  plain  over  the  hills  in  footprints  of 
blood. 

Turn  now  from  those  dark  last  days  of  1777 
in  America,  the  cause  of  liberty  seemingly  ebbing 
away  with  the  dying  year,  and  cast  our  eyes  across 
to  France, — a  last  despairing  look  for  help  from 
over  the  sea. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  BIRTH  OF  AMERICAN  DIPLOMACY 

VAIN  to  look  to  France  in  those  somber  days! 
At  Passy  still  sat  a  white-haired  old  man,  a 
little  older,  a  little  whiter,  still  bravely  talking, 
writing,  smiling  for  America.  But  he  was  smiling 
into  darkness.  Though  he  knew  nothing  of  the  now 
desperate  condition  of  the  patriot  army,  nothing  of 
the  footprints  of  blood  that  led  to  Valley  Forge,  yet 
without  that  the  prospect  before  his  eyes  was  dark 
enough. 

For  long  but  little  news  from  America  had 
reached  France,  and  most  of  that  was  bad.  The 
worst  was  the  report  that  Philadelphia,  the  capital 
of  the  infant  republic,  had  fallen.  That  was  a 
heavier  blow  to  Franklin  than  to  Washington.  For 
in  Paris  unduly  grave  significance  was  given  to  that 
unfortunate  event.  Appreciating  this,  Franklin,  as 
upon  many  another  occasion,  had  made  his  quick 
wit  hide  a  heavy  heart.  "No!"  he  had  exclaimed, 
and  doubtless  with  a  smile  well  hinting  American 
strategy.  "Howe  has  not  taken  Philadelphia; 
Philadelphia  has  taken  Howe!" 

59 


60  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

But  wit  could  not  avail  to  save  the  situation. 
Though  the  ardent  soul  of  France  was  still  for 
America,  though  the  carriage  bearing  a  quaint, 
bespectacled  old  man  and  a  boy  was  made  way  for 
in  the  streets  of  Paris  as  though  it  were  the  coach 
of  a  prince  of  the  blood,  yet  the  French  people  were 
steadily  losing  faith  in  the  success  of  the  colonists. 
America's  best  friends  in  the  ministry  were  dis- 
couraged. And,  after  all  the  envoys'  hard  work, 
open  recognition  by  France  seemed  farther  off  than 
ever. 

In  this  situation  there  came,  one  day  in  that 
December  of  1777,  the  news  of  the  surrender  of 
Burgoyne.  The  effect  upon  the  despairing  envoys 
was  magical.  Deane  said  that  the  message  was 
like  a  sovereign  cordial  to  the  dying.  But  there  was 
little  time  for  congratulation  among  themselves. 
All  France,  all  Europe  must  know!  Of  course  the 
first  step  was  to  send  a  despatch  to  the  French  Gov- 
ernment; and  the  honor  of  acting  as  courier  fell 
to  Temple. 

The  message  that  the  American  boy  carried  to 
the  French  minister  that  day  perhaps  determined 
the  fate  of  the  United  States.  Backed  up  as  it 
immediately  was  by  strong  arguments  from  Frank- 
lin, it  put  an  end  to  the  long  hesitation  of  France, 
and  brought  her  to  a  determination  to  recognize 
the  brave  young  republic  and  to  enter  into  alliance 
with  her.  This  conclusion  of  the  French  Govern- 


BIRTH  OF  AMERICAN  DIPLOMACY     61 

ment  was  hastened  by  the  universal  acclamation 
with  which  the  news  of  the  American  success  was 
received  throughout  France.  Paris  went  into  ec- 
stasies over  it,  rejoicing  as  though  the  victory  had 
been  won  by  French  troops. 

Events  moved  rapidly  now.  Within  a  few  days 
the  envoys  received  a  note  upon  the  gilt-edged  cor- 
respondence paper  of  Louis  XVI.  It  quite  frankly 
suggested  that  proposals  for  closer  relations  between 
France  and  America  would  not  fall  unpleasantly 
upon  the  royal  ear.  Soon  began  those  first  treaty 
negotiations  of  the  United  States  with  a  foreign 
power;  those  negotiations  in  which  lay  the  birth 
of  American  diplomacy.  It  was  a  most  satisfac- 
tory beginning;  and  largely  because  of  the  two  chief 
characters  who  had  to  do  with  it.  Vergennes  and 
Franklin  met  upon  a  high  plane.  They  sincerely 
sought  to  construct  for  France  and  the  United 
States  a  treaty  of  commerce  and  a  treaty  of  alliance, 
both  of  which  should  be  just,  honorable,  and  endur- 
ing. The  two  men  knew  each  other  well,  respected 
each  other  profoundly,  and  in  them  the  sore-pressed 
little  American  republic  and  the  proudest  of  Euro- 
pean monarchies  met  upon  terms  of  absolute 
equality. 

It  was  about  the  beginning  of  February,  1778, 
that  the  final  papers  establishing  terms  of  com- 
mercial intercourse  and  of  alliance  between  the 
two  nations,  were  ready.  Monsieur  Gerard,  who 


62  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

acted  for  France,  met  the  envoys  in  Deane's  apart- 
ments in  Paris  on  the  evening  of  Friday,  February 
6.  There  the  men  gathered  about  a  table  upon 
which  the  precious  documents  were  spread  out. 
Monsieur  Gerard  signed  first,  and  next,  Doctor 
Franklin.  The  two  men  crossed  to  the  fireside  and 
stood  talking  while  Deane  and  Lee  affixed  their 
signatures.  Then  congratulations  and  engagements 
to  secrecy  were  made  all  around,  Gerard  politely 
took  his  leave,  and,  subject  to  ratification,  France 
and  the  United  States  were  allies. 

The  concealment  enshrouding  the  Franco-Ameri- 
can alliance  did  not  wear  well.  A  few  weeks,  and 
the  whole  matter  was  an  open  secret  in  France, 
though  it  would  be  long  before  America  could  hear 
of  it.  The  French  received  the  news  joyfully.  And 
now,  with  the  United  States  recognized  as  an  inde- 
pendent nation,  and  as  an  ally,  it  was  proper  that 
its  representatives  should  have  formal  presentation 
at  the  French  court.  This  function  was  set  for 
March  20,  1778. 

Appreciating  the  importance  that  European 
courts  attached  to  the  formality  of  dress  at  this 
ceremonial,  the  American  envoys  set  out  to  conform 
to  custom.  Possibly  Deane  and  Lee  succeeded 
fairly  well.  In  dressing  on  that  eventful  day  each 
topped  out  his  court  garb  with  the  regulation 
powdered  wig  and  the  regulation  sword. 

But  the  old  Doctor,  and  most  fortunately,  did 


BIRTH  OF  AMERICAN  DIPLOMACY     63 

not  mold  well  into  court  form.  The  plain  black 
velvet  suit  he  put  on  that  morning — with  the  snowy 
ruffles  at  wrist  and  bosom,  the  white  silk  stockings, 
and  the  shoes  with  silver  buckles — was  all  very  well 
in  its  way,  but  that  way  was  not  the  way  of  the 
French  court;  and  as  to  other  details  of  dress,  he 
shaped  still  less  into  a  court  figure.  True,  a  wig, 
that  all-important  adjunct,  had  been  duly  ordered. 
Indeed,  as  the  scene  comes  down  to  us,  there  in 
Franklin's  dressing-room  stood  a  famous  Parisian 
perruquier,  about  to  put  the  wig  on  the  great  head 
of  the  American.  But  a  moment  more,  and  the 
perruquier  was  in  a  passion,  and  the  wig  was  on 
the  floor. 

"Is  it  too  small?"  placidly  inquired  the  Doctor. 

"Too  small!"  exclaimed  the  offended  artist. 
"No!  Mon  Dieu!  It  is  not  the  wig  which  is  too 
small,  Monsieur,  but  your  head  which  is  too  large !" 

So  the  great  head  was  left  in  the  simple  dignity 
of  its  own  silver  locks.  And  simplicity,  once  domi- 
nant, held  sway  over  the  remainder  of  the  Doctor's 
toilet:  when  all  was  complete,  under  his  arm  was 
no  formal  chapeau;  dangling  at  his  side  was  no 
formal  sword.  Perhaps  the  first  instance  in  the 
long  story  of  heralds  and  kings  in  which  an  envoy 
about  to  approach  a  sovereign  stood  virtually  in 
his  every-day  garb. 

In  separate  carriages  the  three  commissioners, 
each  with  attendants,  entered  Versailles.  They 


64  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

drove  into  the  forecourt  of  the  palace  through  an 
applauding  press  of  people,  and  alighted  at  the 
south  wing  where  they  were  received  by  Vergennes, 
who  conducted  them  to  the  king's  antechamber. 
Their  progress  was  accompanied  with  ovation,  the 
frank  tribute  of  the  artificial,  sophisticated  court  to 
the  simple  dignity  of  these  republicans. 

A  few  minutes  of  waiting,  and  then  the  doors  of 
an  adjoining  room  were  thrown  open.  Here  was 
a  surprise  and  a  shock  for  Mr.  Arthur  Lee.  He 
had  got  a  wrong  notion  of  a  court  presentation. 
While  he  may  not  have  been  expecting  the  king  to 
greet  him  from  the  imperial  throne,  he  evidently 
was  expecting  to  be  received  with  some  state  and 
ceremony.  And  now — "a  dressing-room"!  and 
some  nobles  acting  as  valets  to  a  half -garbed  young 
man  with  his  "undressed  hair  hanging  down  on  his 
shoulders" !  Mr.  Lee  could  not  quite  get  over  what 
he  took  to  be  an  offensive  lack  of  respect  for  the 
august  envoys  from  the  United  States.  He  did  not 
know  that  they  were  being  honored  in  the  customary 
form  of  presentation  at  the  court  of  Versailles,  and 
almost  as  though  they  were  the  regularly  accredited 
ambassadors  of  a  first-class  power.  The  "dressing- 
room"  was  the  magnificent  apartment  once  used  as 
the  royal  bedchamber,  and  now  for  the  ceremony 
of  the  king's  robing  and  levee.  The  half-garbed 
young  man  with  the  undressed  hair  was  a  rather 
big  fellow,  not  tall,  but  stocky,  and  about  twenty- 


BIRTH  OF  AMERICAN  DIPLOMACY     65 

five  years  old.  He  had  a  good  look,  a  Roman  nose, 
and  the  throne  of  France. 

Vergennes  advanced  and  presented  the  American 
envoys.  The  king  received  them  graciously,  ex- 
pressing his  approval  of  them  personally,  and  his 
friendship  for  the  United  States. 

They  were  next  to  be  presented  to  the  queen  and 
to  the  other  members  of  the  royal  family.  Doubt- 
less they  feared  more  the  appraising  glances  of  gaily 
critical  Marie  Antoinette  and  the  court  beauties 
about  her  than  they  had  the  short-sighted  gaze  of 
Louis  XVI. 

They  entered  a  noble  room  of  white  and  gold, 
its  walls  set  with  great  mirrors  that  reflectingly 
multiplied  the  elaborate  decorations  in  marbles, 
bronzes,  and  paintings.  Just  now  visions  of  still 
more  showy  figures  were  being  caught  and  flashed 
from  glass  to  glass, — the  elaborately  gowned  ladies 
of  the  court,  with  the  majestic  queen  among  them. 

With  all  her  faults  (and  they  have  been  cruelly 
exaggerated),  Marie  Antoinette  was  every  inch  a 
queen.  As  she  stood  there  within  the  vision  of  the 
American  envoys,  she  must  almost  have  reconciled 
those  republicans  to  some  aspects  of  royalty.  In 
physique  she  was  essentially  queenly,  though  at  that 
time  she  was  scarcely  more  than  a  girl.  Taller  than 
any  of  her  ladies  in  waiting,  she  was  of  fine  figure 
with  a  naturally  regal  air.  Beauty  of  countenance 
she  may  not  have  had,  an  aquiline  nose  detracting 


66  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

somewhat  in  this  respect  even  while  adding  to  her 
commanding  appearance;  but  her  gray  eyes  were 
bright  and  full  of  expression,  her  light  hair  was 
very  beautiful,  and  her  complexion  was  of  dazzling 
fairness. 

In  point  of  dress,  the  young  queen  and  her  ladies 
would  more  than  make  up  for  any  lack  on  the  part 
of  the  king.  Court  gowns  of  eight-yard  spread 
swept  the  floor,  and  great  head-dresses  of  flowers 
and  gauze  and  ribbons  towered  high  above  the 
powdered  heads.  When  the  envoys  approached,  the 
queen  received  them  graciously. 

The  Franco-American  alliance  quickly  ended 
diplomatic  relations  between  France  and  England. 
The  English  minister  left  Paris  bound  for  London, 
and  without  stopping  to  pay  his  respects  to  the 
French  king,  a  step  fraught  with  grave  significance. 
Paris  laughed. 

France  lost  not  a  moment  in  preparing  to  go  to 
the  aid  of  her  ally.  As  secretly  as  possible,  for  she 
would  still  keep  knowledge  of  her  movements  from 
Great  Britain,  she  got  ready  her  ships  of  war.  It 
was  a  formidable  fleet  for  those  days  that  was  soon 
assembled  in  the  fortified  harbor  of  Toulon  on  the 
Mediterranean.  The  command  was  given  to  a  dis- 
tant relative  of  Lafayette,  the  Comte  d'Estaing. 

On  March  31,  two  men  secretly  left  Paris  for 
Toulon.  They  were  Silas  Deane,  who  had  been 
recalled  to  America,  and  Monsieur  Gerard,  who  had 


BIRTH  OF  AMERICAN  DIPLOMACY     67 

been  appointed  Minister  from  France  to  the  United 
States.  They  were  to  ship  with  D'Estaing;  but,  to 
conceal  their  intentions  and  to  avoid  betraying  the 
plans  of  the  French  admiral,  they  left  Paris  sur- 
reptitiously and  traveled  by  different  routes  to 
Toulon,  where  the  fleet  was  now  nearly  ready  to  sail. 
On  the  same  day  there  arrived  at  the  French 
seaport  Bordeaux  a  short,  stout  man  of  the  restless, 
impetuous  type, — the  noted  American  statesman 
John  Adams  now  come  to  France  to  take  Deane's 
place.  In  point  of  patriotism,  integrity,  and  general 
intellectual  ability,  Congress  could  not  have  sent  a 
better  man;  in  point  of  temperament,  training,  and 
tactfulness,  they  could  not  have  sent  a  worse  one. 
Self -centered  and  aggressive,  he  was  bound  to  be  a 
failure  as  a  diplomat  at  any  court,  preeminently  so 
at  the  court  of  Versailles.  But  nobody  could  have 
made  John  Adams  believe  that,  and  confidently  this 
great  but  misplaced  man  set  out  for  Paris,  where 
he  arrived  on  April  8.  His  coming  did  not  improve 
matters  at  the  American  embassy.  An  intense, 
driving  worker,  a  methodical  man  of  red  tape  and 
pigeonholes — what  a  diplomatic  bedfellow  for 
Benjamin  Franklin,  who  took  work  lightly,  who 
loved  to  visit  and  to  dine  out,  and  whose  papers 
were  all  over  the  floor !  Strive  as  the  two  men  both 
would  and  did,  courteous  tolerance  was  to  be  their 
nearest  approach  to  ambassadorial  harmony.  And 
as  of  course  Lee  remained  Lee,  the  last  estate  of 


68  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

this  American  commission  was  worse  than  the  first. 

One  day  about  the  middle  of  that  April  of  1778, 
there  was  bustle  and  excitement  in  the  harbor  of 
Toulon.  The  French  fleet  was  getting  under  way. 
Majestically  the  great  ships  spread  their  wings, 
tacked  off  between  the  headlands,  and  passed  out 
to  sea. 

At  last  France  was  to  strike  for  America.  No 
more  mere  covert  recognition,  no  more  mere  secret 
aid.  With  the  arrival  of  this  armament  on  the  other 
side  of  the  Atlantic,  the  last  veil  of  diplomatic 
temporizing  would  be  torn  away.  Open  alliance 
between  Louis  XVI  and  the  American  republic 
would  be  voiced  in  the  roar  of  French  guns. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  DAYS  OF  VALLEY  FORGE 

TURN  backward  now,  and  from  France  to 
America.  Turn  from  the  warm  spring  day 
that  witnessed  the  sailing  of  the  French  fleet,  back 
to  that  bleak  December  day  when  we  left  a  little 
American  army  seeking  winter  shelter  and  ending 
its  bloody  trail  at  the  wind-swept  hills  of  Valley 
Forge.  The  days  on  those  hills  must  be  lived. 

First  came  an  order  for  the  building  of  huts,  an 
order  received  by  the  half-famished,  shivering  men 
as  a  requirement  almost  beyond  them.  However, 
they  went  bravely  to  work.  If  one  needed  encour- 
agement, he  had  only  to  look  across  the  hillside 
to  where  a  plain  little  tent  was  straining  against 
the  wintry  blast.  Within  that  frail  shelter  lived  and 
toiled  the  American  commander-in-chief,  refusing 
better  quarters  until  his  soldiers  too  could  have 
them. 

In  the  midst  of  cold  and  snow  the  army  worked 
on.  Axes  rang  in  the  great  forests,  and  logs  were 
cut  and  hauled.  In  regular  rows  the  little  huts 
began  to  rise.  But  it  was  slow,  painful  work,  the 

69 


70  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

men's  strength  lessening  as  food  became  more 
scarce,  sickness  more  common,  and  the  weather 
more  severe.  Christmas  came — cold,  and  the  snow 
falling.  An  ideal  Christmas  for  the  snug  British 
in  Philadelphia,  but  a  bitter  mockery  for  the  shel- 
terless patriots  at  Valley  Forge! 

Slowly  the  work  went  on.  Horses,  as  ill  fed  as 
their  drivers  fell  in  their  work  of  drawing  logs  from 
the  forest,  and  lay  down  in  the  snow  and  died. 
Then  men  dragged  the  logs  through  the  drifts,  and 
their  feet  and  legs  froze,  and  the  surgeon's  knife 
and  saw  were  the  only  remedy.  The  ragged  clothes 
in  which  the  troops  reached  this  winter  camp  wore 
out  in  the  heavy  work,  and,  scant  supplies  coming 
to  replace  them,  the  soldiers  were  soon  half -naked 
in  the  snow.  Still  the  huts  rose  slowly,  and  pos- 
sibly the  spirits  of  the  army  with  them.  Each  hut 
was  fourteen  by  fifteen  feet,  the  spaces  between  the 
logs  filled  with  clay,  and  the  openings  for  windows 
covered  with  oiled  paper.  Early  in  the  new  year 
most  of  the  soldiers  were  housed  in  these  rude  build- 
ings, fourteen  men  in  each  hut. 

Now  there  disappeared  that  frail,  wind-blown 
shelter  of  the  commander-in-chief.  Down  by  the 
river  where  Valley  Creek  emptied  in  stood  a  stone 
building,  the  house  of  Isaac  Potts,  and  Washington 
took  this  stout  little  house  for  his  headquarters. 
Some  distance  up  the  creek  was  another  substantial 
home,  owned  by  John  Harvard,  and  this  came  to 


THE  DAYS  OF  VALLEY  FORGE   71 

be  the  headquarters  of  Lafayette.  Temptation  was 
strong  for  the  marquis  to  spend  the  winter  in 
France.  Even  a  baby  daughter  was  there  that  he 
had  never  seen,  little  Anastasia,  born  shortly  after 
he  left  home.  But  he  stayed  to  share  the  hardships 
of  Valley  Forge.  "Everything  told  me  to  depart," 
he  wrote  to  his  wife;  "honor  told  me  to  remain." 

In  the  gloom  of  those  winter  days,  Washington 
and  Lafayette  drew  yet  closer  in  their  intimacy. 
One  January  day  the  two  friends  were  sitting  to- 
gether in  Washington's  headquarters.  A  package 
of  papers  arrived  from  York,  where  Congress 
was  then  in  session.  Washington  opened  and  read 
what  was  an  insult  to  him  as  Commander-in-Chief 
of  the  American  Army. 

The  papers  in  his  hand  revealed  the  power  of  the 
political  cabal  opposed  to  him.  Congress  had 
created  a  new  army,  the  Army  of  the  North ;  which 
was  to  be  independent,  not  in  any  way  under  control 
of  the  commander-in-chief .  One  of  his  own  officers 
was  to  be  in  supreme  command  of  this  new  army; 
and  that  officer,  the  devoted  young  friend  sitting 
there  beside  him.  Indeed,  that  was  the  crux  of  the 
whole  affair, — the  separation  of  Washington  and 
Lafayette. 

Such  separation  was  important  in  furthering  the 
purpose  of  the  cabal  against  Washington.  Lafay- 
ette was  a  man  to  be  reckoned  with  in  almost  any 
movement  affecting  the  American  army.  A  ro- 


72  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

mantic  figure  in  the  conflict,  he  had  a  warm  place  in 
the  hearts  of  the  soldiers,  and  was  looked  upon 
almost  as  the  representative  of  France.  The  cabal 
could  not  win  his  support ;  it  must  do  all  possible  to 
deprive  Washington  of  it. 

We  can  see  the  quiet  Washington,  hurt  but  un- 
showing,  sitting  there  with  his  quick-eyed,  ardent 
young  friend,  before  the  open  fire  that  winter  day. 
What  thoughts  were  his!  His  long  service  and 
sacrifice;  the  turning  from  him  because  he  could 
not  accomplish  the  impossible;  and  now,  this  at- 
tempt to  lure  away  from  him  the  devoted  but 
ambitious  young  Frenchman  whom  he  had  come  to 
love  as  a  son.  How  clearly  he  saw  through  the 
whole  miserable  scheme!  Among  the  papers  was 
one  for  Lafayette,  his  commission  as  commander 
of  the  Army  of  the  North.  Washington  turned  and 
handed  it  to  him  without  a  word. 

At  first  Lafayette's  eager  mind  caught  only  the 
idea  of  active  service,  and  the  honor  of  command. 
He  was  to  march  into  Canada,  that  fair  province 
of  France  that  she  had  lost  to  England;  fight  the 
British,  and  rouse  the  Canadians  to  join  in  the 
struggle  for  American  liberty.  What  a  glorious 
undertaking  for  a  son  of  France, — to  be  the  libera- 
tor of  French  America! 

But — was  something  wrong?  The  boy  soldier 
read  more  carefully.  When  he  realized  that  this 
flattering  honor  to  him  was  an  insult  to  his  chief, 


THE  DAYS  OF  VALLEY  FORGE   73 

Lafayette's  heroic  vision  vanished.  He*  hotly  de- 
clared that  he  would  not  accept  the  appointment. 
Washington  advised  otherwise.  The  Army  of  the 
North  had  been  created.  Nothing  could  help  that 
now.  And  to  whom  could  Washington  more  safely 
trust  its  command  than  to  Lafayette?  Dearer  to 
the  marquis  than  the  enticing  commission  was  the 
simple  tribute  of  confidence:  "I  would  rather  they 
had  selected  you  for  this  than  any  other  man." 
Lafayette  insisted  upon  being  subordinate  to  Gen- 
eral Washington  and  regarded  as  one  of  his  officers 
detached  for  special  service.  This  condition  was 
acceded  to,  and  he  accepted  the  appointment. 

Albany,  New  York,  was  to  be  the  starting-point 
of  his  expedition;  and  up  the  steep  hill  of  that  old 
Dutch  town,  one  February  day,  rode  Lafayette, 
buoyant  with  visions  of  glorious  service  for  the 
liberty  of  America  and  the  honor  of  France.  But 
the  glamor  quickly  faded.  There  was  no  Army  of 
the  North, — just  a  few  hundred  men,  ragged,  ill-fed, 
sick,  and  mutinous.  There  were  no  munitions. 
There  was  no  money.  The  expedition  into  Canada 
was  impossible! 

The  situation  was  one  we  may  never  quite  under- 
stand. Perhaps  the  cabal  at  York  had  not 
really  intended  this  expedition  to  go  forward.  In 
any  event,  it  served  its  main  purpose  of  taking 
Lafayette  from  the  side  of  the  commander-in-chief. 
Amazed  at  the  utter  cpllapse  of  the  project,  chafing 


74  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

at  his  own  helplessness,  the  marquis  was  left  with 
no  further  support  from  Congress.  He  would  have 
been  more  content  had  he  known  the  change  that 
was  taking  place  in  that  body.  The  strength  of  the 
cabal  against  Washington  was  waning  in  the  face 
of  a  growing  popular  faith  in  him.  In  the  end 
Congress  announced  that  the  expedition  into 
Canada  was  impracticable,  and  directed  Lafayette 
to  return  to  the  main  army. 

It  was  a  most  welcome  order  to  the  disgusted 
Commander  of  the  Army  of  the  North.  And  so, 
on  a  day  in  April,  he  came  riding  again  into  the 
camp  at  Valley  Forge,  making  very  straight  for  the 
little  stone  house  down  by  the  river,  where  he  found 
Washington  and  a  warm  welcome.  He  found  also 
a  new  member  in  the  household.  The  general  must 
have  had  much  satisfaction  in  presenting  the  ele- 
gant, courtly  Frenchman  to  "Lady  Washington,"  as 
even  democratic  America  called  the  wife  of  its 
commander-in-chief.  A  very  good  continental  bow 
(Lafayette  could  never  quite  make  the  best)  and 
then  a  lasting  friendship  began  between  the  hostess 
of  headquarters  and  the  "French  boy,"  as  she 
always  called  him. 

How  little  she  seemed  beside  her  lordly  husband ! 
Very  sober  in  her  quiet  brown  dress,  relieved  only 
by  the  spotless  white  at  her  throat.  Her  brown 
eyes,  too,  were  sober  now,  as  though  catching  a 
shadow  from  Valley  Forge. 


THE  DAYS  OF  VALLEY  FORGE   75 

Out  through  the  camp  the  marquis  saw 'changes. 
There  was  something  of  springtime  awakening; 
something  of  heart  and  hope  showing  through  the 
gloom,  like  stirring  buds  under  the  dead  leaves  of 
the  woodland.  For  the  past  two  or  three  weeks  a 
sufficiency  of  food  and  considerable  clothing  had 
been  reaching  the  camp ;  and  the  soldiers,  what  there 
were  left  of  them,  showed  for  it. 

But  the  greatest  change  of  all  this  returning 
officer  observed  at  manceuvers.  He  had  left  the 
American  army  virtually  an  untrained  mob.  Al- 
most unbelievable  was  the  undisciplined  nature  of 
that  brave  soldiery.  They  knew  about  as  much  of 
the  manual  of  arms  as  a  sheriff's  posse.  They  seem 
always  to  have  been  so  busy  fighting  that  they  could 
not  stop  to  learn  how  to  fight. 

France  saw  all  this  from  across  the  Atlantic. 
And  while  Lafayette  was  away  she  (without  letting 
her  agency  be  known  in  the  matter)  secured  the 
appointment  by  Congress  of  a  certain  Baron  von 
Steuben  as  Inspector-General  of  the  American 
army.  Von  Steuben  was  perhaps  no  great  military 
genius,  but  he  was  a  remarkable  man,  and  with 
consummate  knowledge  of  military  organization, 
acquired  under  Frederick  the  Great.  Now  for  some 
weeks  this  efficient  drill-master  had  been  training 
the  raw  Americans.  Well,  Lafayette  would  scarcely 
know  his  own  division.  To  his  eye,  as  to  Von 
Steuben's,  accustomed  to  the  accuracy  of  European 


76  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

manceuvers,  there  was  yet  room  for  criticism;  but 
as  compared  with  the  untrained  army  he  had  so 
lately  left,  these  were  crack  troops. 

The  month  of  May  came  in,  bringing  great  joy 
to  Valley  Forge.  Word  reached  the  camp  on  Sat- 
urday, May  2,  that  treaties  creating  an  alliance  had 
been  signed  by  France  and  the  United  States.  That 
glorious  news  was  received  with  such  rejoicing  as 
almost  to  banish  the  memory  of  a  winter  of  misery. 

Washington  set  Wednesday,  May  6,  as  a  time  of 
celebration.  And  they  made  a  full  day  of  it.  There 
was  much  parading,  every  man  in  his  tattered  best, 
bands  playing,  officers  leading  proudly  upon  pranc- 
ing steeds.  The  deafening  fire  of  musketry  ran 
back  and  forth  across  the  lines.  Cannon  flashed 
and  roared.  And  now  and  then,  at  a  signal  gun, 
rose  the  greater  joyous  voice  of  the  soldiery: 
"Huzza,  for  the  American  States!  Long  live  the 
King  of  France!"  In  this  day  of  celebration 
Lafayette  carried  a  divided  heart.  It  was  a  day  of 
personal  triumph  for  him;  the  cause  that  he  had 
championed  in  opposition  to  his  king,  that  king  had 
now  pledged  all  France  to  support.  But  he  had 
just  learned  of  the  death  of  his  little  Henriette; 
and  with  that  affliction  stabbing  he  joined  in  cele- 
brating the  alliance  of  France  and  America. 

With  the  advance  of  spring,  very  different  grew 
that  life  at  Valley  Forge.  The  month  of  May 
brought  brightness  and  warmth,  and  there  was  an 


THE  DAYS  OF  VALLEY  FORGE   77 

ample  supply  of  food.  Men  who,  such  a  little  while 
ago,  were  huddling  about  their  fires,  cold,  famished, 
despairing,  were  now  comfortable,  well  fed,  and 
romping  in  the  sunshine.  There  were  a  few  more 
days  yet  to  be  spent  upon  those  hills,  but  the  camp 
life  of  exposure  and  suffering  was  over, — that 
tragic  camp  life  that  carried  a  shiver  into  history. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  SWORD  MEDALLION,  "BARREN  HILL*' 

IT  was  in  that  spring  of  1778  that  Sir  Henry 
Clinton  arrived  in  Philadelphia  to  succeed  Lord 
Howe.  At  once  there  were  indications  of  some 
intended  movement  of  importance  by  the  British. 
From  such  information  as  Washington  could  gain, 
he  surmised  that  they  were  about  to  evacuate  the 
city.  Whether  this  was  actually  their  purpose,  and 
if  so  whether  the  evacuation  would  be  for  attack 
or  for  retreat,  there  was  no  way  of  telling.  Wash- 
ington concluded  to  send  out  a  considerable  detach- 
ment toward  Philadelphia,  as  a  security  to  his  own 
camp,  as  a  means  of  obtaining  intelligence,  and  as 
an  advance  body  ready  to  fall  upon  the  enemy's  rear 
should  their  retreat  make  that  practicable. 

He  selected  for  this  purpose  some  of  his  best 
troops,  about  2500  men,  and  gave  the  command  to 
Lafayette.  That  was  a  marked  and  indeed  a  sur- 
prising exhibition  of  Washington's  confidence  in 
that  young  officer.  The  expedition  was  more 
important  than  many  involving  vastly  larger  forces. 
It  also  was  especially  dangerous.  That  the  com- 
mander-in-chief  appreciated  all  this  was  shown  by 

78 


"BARREN  HILL"  79 

his  instructions  to  Lafayette,  and  by  the  particular 
admonition,  "You  will  remember  that  your  detach- 
ment is  a  very  valuable  one,  and  that  any  accident 
happening  to  it  would  be  a  very  severe  blow  to  this 
army." 

On  the  morning  of  May  18  the  expedition  left 
Valley  Forge.  How  proud  the  tall,  slender  young 
Frenchman  as  he  marched  his  little  army  off  the 
parade-ground,  and  rode  down  the  slope  with  his 
"old  Continentals  in  their  ragged  regimentals"! 
How  straight  the  blue-coated  back,  how  square  the 
shoulders  under  the  gold  epaulettes,  how  full  the 
chest  under  the  purple  ribbon  of  his  rank,  all  with 
the  thought  that  the  quiet  eyes  of  a  majestic  figure 
were  following  him  with  paternal  interest  and 
pride! 

With  the  flower  of  the  American  army,  Lafay- 
ette marched  down  along  the  Schuylkill  that  May 
morning.  Over  rocky  slopes,  through  dark  valleys, 
and  upon  winding  forest  roads  he  proceeded  about 
five  miles,  to  a  shallow  in  the  river  called  Swede's 
Ford.  Here  he  crossed  the  stream  and  took  the 
Ridge  Road  leading  toward  Philadelphia.  March- 
ing on  into  the  afternoon,  he  doubtless  heard 
cannonading  ahead  in  the  direction  of  the  city, 
which  would  excite  his  interest  and  perhaps  wonder- 
ment. The  British  were  having  in  honor  of  the 
retiring  Lord  Howe  a  demonstration  which  they 
called  the  Mischianza. 


80  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

Could  Lafayette  have  looked  in  upon  the  Quaker 
town,  he  would  have  seen  merrymaking  almost 
European  in  its  elegance.  The  British  officers,  en- 
thusiastically aided  (How  strange  it  sounds!)  by 
many  of  the  fashionable  residents  of  the  city,  made 
that  afternoon  and  night  a  brilliant,  and  at  times 
somewhat  unbridled,  round  of  gaiety.  And  all  in 
honor  of  a  British  general  who  had  accomplished 
nothing. 

By  the  next  day  Lafayette  reached  a  small  eleva- 
tion called  Barren  Hill,  midway  between  Valley 
Forge  and  Philadelphia.  Here  he  took  up  a  position 
from  which  to  begin  his  operations.  It  was  a  posi- 
tion well  chosen.  His  center  rested  upon  a  rocky 
ledge,  over  which  his  five  little  cannon  were  soon 
poking  their  noses  defiantly  southward  toward  the 
city;  his  right  reached  to  the  protection  of  the 
river;  and  his  left  to  that  of  a  wood  and  several 
strong  stone  houses.  His  pickets  were  well  out  in 
all  directions.  Behind  him  were  open  avenues  of 
retreat  for  recrossing  the  Schuylkill;  one  along 
the  road  just  traversed,  back  to  Swede's  Ford,  and 
others  leading  to  a  lower  ford,  called  Matson's  Ford. 
So  situated,  the  Americans  were  as  well  off  as  a 
detached  force  could  expect  to  be,  thrown  forward 
in  the  face  of  the  enemy. 

Now  Lafayette  lost  no  'time  in  getting  to  work 
upon  one  of  the  main  objects  of  his  expedition,  the 
obtaining  of  information  as  to  the  intentions  of  the 


"BARREN  HILL"  81 

enemy.  He  found  a  young  woman  who  was  willing 
to  go  into  Philadelphia  for  intelligence,  under  the 
pretense  of  visiting  her  relatives.  Upon  the  morn- 
ing of  May  20  he  was  just  giving  her  his  final 
instructions,  when  a  messenger  came  hurrying  with 
news  that  put  an  end  to  plans  of  that  sort. 

All  this  time  the  British  had  not  been  idle.  Their 
efficient  spy  system  had  quickly  advised  them  in 
Philadelphia  of  Lafayette's  every  movement.  And 
so,  close  upon  the  heels  of  the  Mischianza,  they 
had  merrily  planned  another  gala  event — the  cap- 
ture and  humiliation  of  a  certain  young  French 
nobleman  who  had  paid  light  respect  to  the  British 
king,  sided  boldly  with  America  in  English 
drawing-rooms,  danced  gaily  with  the  London 
belles,  and  then  blithely  crossed  the  sea  to  fight  for 
the  "rebels." 

An  elaborate  plan  for  surrounding  Lafayette  was 
devised  and  joyfully  entered  upon.  Captured,  he 
should  be  borne  into  the  city  in  mock  deference,  to 
receive  exaggerated  courtesy  and  attention.  To 
complete  his  humiliation,  he  should  be  carried  to 
England  to  face  London  again;  or,  perhaps  better, 
to  France,  where  his  reputation  as  a  gallant  knight 
would  be  snuffed  out  in  laughter. 

So  attractive  was  the  idea  of  catching  the  French 
marquis,  that  both  General  Howe  and  General 
Clinton  determined  to  accompany  the  expedition. 
And  so  gaily  confident  were  they  of  his  humiliation, 


82  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

that  they  arranged  for  a  grand  dinner  to  be  given 
upon  their  return,  and  issued  invitations  to  a  num- 
ber of  society  people  to  meet  the  distinguished 
French  nobleman,  the  Marquis  de  Lafayette. 

And  indeed  the  prospect  of  this  mock  honor  to 
the  youthful  commander  who  had  ventured  out  in 
the  face  of  the  British  army,  seemed  very  good.  A 
complete  surprise  had  been  planned  by  a  select  force 
four  or  five  times  as  large  as  Lafayette's,  and 
accompanied  by  two  of  the  leading  generals  of 
England. 

In  three  columns  the  British  expedition  set  out 
from  Philadelphia  on  the  night  of  May  19.  Through 
the  darkness  they  stealthily  advanced  upon  the 
American  detachment.  One  column  proceeded 
directly  toward  Barren  Hill,  and  took  a  stand  in 
front  of  Lafayette's  position.  The  second  column 
marched  to  a  point  on  the  Schuylkill  near  his  right 
wing.  The  third  column  moved  rapidly  around  his 
left  wing,  so  as  to  gain  his  rear  and  cut  him  off 
from  the  roads  by  which  he  could  retreat  to  the 
fords,  and  so  back  across  the  river  to  Valley  Forge. 

All  went  well  with  the  British,  surprisingly  well. 
Even  the  column  seeking  to  pass  around  Lafayette's 
left,  and  so  gain  the  rear  of  his  position,  accom- 
plished its  purpose  readily  and  without  finding  even 
an  American  outpost  to  obstruct  the  road  it  was 
traversing.  Yet  Lafayette  had  placed  a  strong  body 
of  militia  to  guard  that  very  road.  For  some  reason 


"BARREN  HILL"  83 

that  body  of  militia  had  seen  fit  to  desert  its  post 
and  to  go  to  the  rear. 

Morning  came  and  the  Americans  were  virtually 
surrounded.  It  was  then,  as  Lafayette  was  starting 
the  girl  spy  for  Philadelphia,  that  the  hurrying 
messenger  broke  the  news  that  the  redcoats  were 
upon  him.  Unaccountable  as  this  seemed  to  him, 
knowing  nothing  of  his  guard's  desertion,  yet  he 
instantly  sent  out  a  party  to  reconnoiter.  Back 
came  word  of  the  approach  in  more  than  one 
direction.  The  cry  arose  among  the  troops  that 
they  were  surrounded! 

It  was  a  situation  to  tax  an  older  head  than 
Lafayette's.  But  no  older  one  could  possibly  have 
improved  upon  his  prompt  measures.  He  met  the 
cry  of  the  men  with  a  reassuring  calm,  and  even 
with  a  heartening  smile.  Without  a  moment's 
hesitation  he  wheeled  his  troops  to  a  changed  front, 
with  all  the  appearance  of  an  intended  attack 
against  the  British  on  his  left.  He  was  playing  for 
time.  For,  although  the  principal  roads  of  retreat 
to  the  fords  were  already  cut  off  by  the  British, 
there  was  a  little  road  running  under  a  ridge  along 
the  river  by  which  Matson's  Ford  might  yet  be 
reached,  if  the  enemy  could  be  kept  from  farther 
advance. 

And  Lafayette's  show  of  attack  held  them.  Soon 
it  was  a  very  thin  show;  for  back  of  a  sparse  line 
in  front,  he  was  rapidly  sending  his  troops  down 


84  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

the  little  road  to  Matson's  Ford.  Further  deceiving 
the  British  by  having  small  bodies  of  men  show 
themselves  here  and  there  in  the  woods,  to  appear 
like  heads  of  marching  columns,  he  kept  the  enemy 
hesitating  to  attack  him  until  too  late.  At  length, 
having  successfully  covered  the  retreat  of  the  main 
body,  the  marquis  gathered  up  his  handful  of  last 
defenders  and  withdrew  down  the  little  road  him- 
self. Pursuit  of  course  followed,  but  too  late. 
Safely  across  the  Schuylkill,  and  in  a  commanding 
position  on  the  heights,  the  Americans  challenged 
further  action.  The  young  French  nobleman,  who 
was  to  have  been  the  drawing  guest  at  that  dinner 
in  Philadelphia,  had  declined  the  invitation. 

The  British  glared  across  the  river  at  Lafayette's 
position,  afraid  to  attack,  and  then  marched 
back  to  Philadelphia.  Upon  Lafayette's  safe  return 
to  Valley  Forge  with  his  detachment,  he  was  re- 
ceived with  acclamations.  Washington  had  early 
learned  of  the  movement  against  the  Americans, 
and  had  suffered  much  apprehension.  Riding  in 
hot  speed  to  a  hill  summit,  he  had  trained  his  glass 
anxiously  upon  Lafayette's  position.  Now  with 
relief  and  pride  he  welcomed  his  young  general 
who  had  saved  the  flower  of  the  army  by  a  presence 
of  mind  and  a  ready  skill  that  would  have  done 
credit  to  a  veteran  officer.  And  once  more,  in  re- 
porting to  Congress,  the  commander-in-chief  took 


"BARREN  HILL"  85 

occasion  to  mention  with  distinction  the  Marquis 
de  Lafayette. 

And  once  more  the  boy  general  had  made  copy 
for  the  graver's  tool.  Upon  that  sword  that  America 
was  to  present  to  this  Knight  of  France  would  be 
represented  the  incident  of  Barren  Hill.  A  rath.-: 
considerable  military  event  in  its  clever  handling 
of  troops,  and  one  that  has  earned  for  Lafayette 
high  praise,  and  yet  no  great  affair.  No,  again  we 
must  look  beyond  what  carved  lines  show.  To 
catch  the  spirit  of  the  sword  we  must  see  not  only 
the  courage  and  the  strategy  of  Barren  Hill,  but 
the  noble  service  of  those  days  that  led  up  to  Barren 
Hill.  We  must  catch  the  picture  of  a  mere  boy 
standing  loyally  by  the  weak  and  oppressed  of  an 
alien  land,  through  winter  days  so  dark  that  bravest 
hearts  lost  hope ;  we  must  see  him  turning  from  the 
lure  of  home  and  luxurious  ease  to  share  sufferings 
from  which  Americans  themselves  fled  in  scores, — 
the  horrors  of  Valley  Forge. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  SWORD  MEDALLION,    "MONMOUTH" 

ABOUT  the  middle  of  June,  1778,  came  the 
movement  on  the  part  of  the  enemy  that 
Washington  long  had  been  expecting.  The  British 
fleet  dropped  down  the  Delaware  and  sailed,  as  it 
proved,  for  New  York;  while  Clinton  with  his 
army  abandoned  the  city,  crossed  the  river  to  the 
Jersey  shore,  and  set  out  upon  a  long  hard  march 
for  the  same  destination.  Washington  was  ready 
for  pursuit.  Quickly  the  American  army  at  Valley 
Forge  was  put  in  motion ;  some  of  it  so  quickly  that 
half-baked  bread  was  left  in  the  ovens,  as  the  men 
marched  down  the  slopes  and  over  the  improvised 
bridge  across  the  Schuylkill. 

It  was  determined  that  an  advance  corps  of  about 
five  thousand  men  should  harass  the  retreating 
enemy,  the  remainder  of  the  army  following  within 
supporting  distance.  Naturally  the  command  of 
the  important  advance  corps  was  offered  by  Wash- 
ington to  the  highest  officer  under  him,  General  Lee. 
Lee  declined  it,  ostensibly  because  he  did  not  favor 
the  plan  of  operations,  and  the  command  was  then 
given  to  Lafayette. 

86 


"MONMOUTH"  87 

The  young  general  set  out  upon  the  enterprise 
with  great  enthusiasm.  It  was  all  to  his  liking. 
The  position  given  to  him  at  the  head  of  the  "flying 
army"  was  a  flattering  one.  It  meant  fighting,  and 
fighting  was  what  he  was  there  for.  He  pressed 
eagerly  forward,  and  was  almost  upon  the  British, 
even  preparing  his  attack,  when  he  was  suddenly 
stripped  of  his  dream  of  glory.  The  trouble  was 
simply  that  Lee  changed  his  mind.  He  concluded 
that  he  wished  the  command  of  the  "flying  army" 
after  all.  He  applied  both  to  Washington  and  to 
Lafayette.  He  represented  that  he  had  made  a 
mistake,  and  that  he  saw  he  should  be  disgraced 
were  he  not  in  command  of  this  important  advance 
army.  Appealing  to  Lafayette,  he  said,  "I  place 
my  fortune  and  my  honor  in  your  hands;  you  are 
too  generous  to  destroy  both  the  one  and  the  other." 

It  was  a  bitter  moment  for  Lafayette,  but  one 
that  he  met  with  his  characteristic  chivalry.  Con- 
fident of  success,  sword  raised  to  strike,  he  stayed 
his  arm,  and  relinquished  his  authority  to  Lee. 
That  officer  took  command  on  June  27 ;  the  marquis 
now  under  him,  and  with  little  chance  of  distin- 
guishing himself.  That  night  the  British  were 
encamped  near  a  small  village  called  Freehold,  in 
central  New  Jersey,  where  was  the  court-house  of 
Monmouth  County.  Here  they  occupied  a  strong 
position.  Lee  with  his  detachment  was  within  about 
five  miles  of  them,  and  Washington  with  the  main 


88  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

American  army  some  two  or  three  miles  behind 
him.  Lee  was  now  under  orders  from  the  com- 
mander-in-chief  to  attack  the  enemy  as  soon  as  they 
should  leave  their  strong  position  and  resume  their 
march.  This  they  did  on  the  morning  of  June  28, 
and  Lee  pressed  forward  to  attack. 

The  true  story  of  the  ensuing  battle,  called  the 
battle  of  Monmouth,  will  never  be  told.  Although 
the  action  has  been  well  threshed  over,  owing  to 
the  court-martial  proceedings  against  Lee  for  his 
conduct  that  day,  yet  much  remains  in  a  confusing 
fog  of  contradiction  and  uncertainty. 

In  general,  it  was  this  way.  It  was  Sunday,  and 
a  day  to  be  remembered  for  its  heat  and  sultriness. 
The  long  red  line  of  the  English  toiled  over 
the  sandy  road.  Out  from  a  wood  came  Lee's  de- 
tachment to  fall  upon  the  enemy's  left  flank  and 
rear.  Back  of  him  Washington  was  coming  up 
with  the  main  army.  The  English  did  not  tamely 
wait  for  Lee's  onslaught.  Quickly  countermarching 
and  deploying,  they  also  formed  to  attack.  How- 
ever, all  things  were  propitious  for  the  success  of 
Lee's  forces.  And  then,  before  the  occurrence  of 
anything  more  than  a  slight  engagement  at  one  or 
two  points,  the  Americans  were  thrown  into  utter 
confusion  from  lack  of  proper  command.  Lee,  by 
vague  and  conflicting  orders,  soon  had  his  detach- 
ment broken  up  into  small  parties,  ordered  forward 
here,  and  backward  there,  without  any  of  his 


"MONMOUTH"  89 

officers  understanding  the  purpose  of  the  action,  if 
there  were  any.  Soon  most  of  the  commands  were 
left  unsupported  in  positions  from  which  they  were 
forced  to  retire. 

Lafayette,  making  the  most  strenuous  efforts  to 
strike  effectively  with  his  command,  was  so  re- 
stricted by  his  orders,  and  by  lack  of  support,  he 
could  accomplish  nothing.  He  vainly  protested  that 
a  stand  should  be  made;  and  at  length  became  so 
suspicious  of  Lee  that  he  sent  in  all  haste  a  despatch 
from  the  field  to  Washington.  It  is  said  that  when 
he  was  still  forced  to  fall  back,  one  of  his  aides  was 
shot  by  his  side,  and  that  the  marquis  coolly  dis- 
mounted under  fire,  and  stopped  to  make  sure  that 
the  man  was  beyond  succor.  At  length  Lee  had 
his  whole  command  in  rapid  and  somewhat  dis- 
orderly retreat. 

It  was  now  that  Washington,  coming  up  with 
the  main  body  of  his  army,  reached  the  field.  He  was 
amazed  and  indignant  upon  beholding  Lee's  broken 
and  fleeing  detachment  His  meeting  with  that 
officer  was  a  stormy  one.  But  there  was  no  time 
to  be  lost.  A  scathing  reprimand,  and  then  the  com- 
mander-in-chief  turned  quickly  to  the  work  of 
saving  the  day.  He  seized  upon  an  advantageous 
position,  checked  the  retreat,  and  reformed  enough 
of  Lee's  force  to  hold  the  ground  until  he  could 
bring  the  main  army  into  action.  This  he  did  to 


90  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

excellent  advantage,  confidently  placing  part  of  the 
troops  under  Lafayette. 

Time  after  time,  the  pursuing  English  now  threw 
themselves  against  the  American  position.  But  the 
tide  of  battle  had  turned.  They  were  repulsed  at 
every  point,  and  finally  were  driven  back  some 
distance  before  darkness  closed  the  engagement. 
That  night  the  Americans  lay  upon  their  arms 
ready  to  resume  the  offensive  in  the  morning.  Upon 
the  same  cloak,  at  the  foot  of  a  tree,  lay  Washington 
and  Lafayette.  There  was  little  sleep  for  them. 
They  discussed  earnestly  the  conduct  of  Lee.  Quite 
likely,  in  their  anger  and  disappointment,  they 
somewhat  over-blamed  the  man.  Much  as  he  was 
at  fault,  there  seem  to  have  been  some  things  in 
extenuation  of  his  conduct  that  they  could  not  then 
understand;  and  possibly  there  was  not  actual 
treachery  on  his  part  that  day,  however  much  of  a 
traitor  he  may  later  have  been.  But  that  night,  how 
could  any  condemnation  seem  too  strong?  While 
Washington  had  saved  the  situation,  turning  defeat 
into  victory,  and  hoped  to  do  more  in  the  morning, 
yet  the  grand  opportunity  had  been  lost,  lost  by  a 
trusted  officer's  "shameful  retreat." 

The  hot  dawn  of  the  next  day  brought  disap- 
pointment. During  the  night,  so  quietly  that  not 
even  the  American  advance  posts  learned  of  his 
movements,  Clinton  had  withdrawn  his  army  in  the 
darkness.  He  was  now  too  far  on  his  way  for 


"MONMOUTH"  91 

further  attack.  He  soon  completed  his  long  march 
to  New  York;  while  the  Americans  could  do  no 
more  for  the  present  than  to  follow  and  to  occupy 
near-by  strategic  points. 

Had  Lafayette  continued  in  command,  it  is  almost 
certain  that  he  would  have  led  to  victory.  But 
would  that  have  made  more  nobly  symbolic  the 
carved  medallion,  "Battle  of  Monmouth,"  soon  to 
find  place  on  that  sword  from  Congress?  His  real 
victory,  his  honors,  lay  back  of  that  battle  in  his 
generous  and  graceful  sacrifice  of  leadership.  This 
medallion  on  the  sword  may  well  stand  as  a  tribute 
to  the  boy's  chivalry. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  SWORD  MEDALLION,  "RHODE  ISLAND" 

THERE  now  began  a  new  period  of  the  Ameri- 
can Revolution.  It  opened  on  July  7,  1778, 
when,  out  from  the  gray  haze  of  the  Atlantic, 
loomed  sail  after  sail  after  sail!  France  was  com- 
ing! That  night  a  splendid  battle  fleet  of  His  Most 
Christian  Majesty,  Louis  XVI,  lay  at  anchor  in 
Delaware  Bay. 

From  that  moment  a  new  strength,  and  a  new 
weakness  too,  were  added  to  the  patriot  cause. 
Thereafter  America  and  France  fought  side  by  side ; 
but  often  with  so  much  of  misunderstanding  and  bit- 
terness between  them  as  to  threaten  their  own 
defeat.  The  racial  troubles  began  early.  Nothing 
breeds  friction  between  co-workers  like  ill-success. 
The  French  fleet  met  disappointment  at  the  outset. 
Its  admiral,  the  Comte  d'Estaing,  came  counting 
upon  catching  the  British  fleet  in  the  Delaware. 
He  found  that  it  had  escaped  and  was  now  in  the 
harbor  of  New  York.  He  at  once  sailed  up  the 
coast,  but  because  some  of  his  ships  were  of  too 

deep  draught  to  go  over  the  bar,  or  because  the 

92 


"RHODE  ISLAND"  93 

English  vessels  commanded  the  channel,  he  could 
not  enter  for  an  engagement. 

Washington  hastened  to  propose  another  under- 
taking. At  that  time  Newport,  Rhode  Island,  was 
occupied  by  the  British.  Washington  felt  that  its 
capture  would  force  the  English  to  evacuate  New 
York.  Preparations  were  at  once  begun  for  a  joint 
attack.  Washington  ordered  Major-General  Sulli- 
van to  assemble  militia  near  the  town,  and  sent  to 
him  a  strong  detachment  of  his  own  best  troops, 
part  under  Greene  and  part  under  Lafayette.  Upon 
July  29,  1778,  the  French  fleet  cast  anchor  off  New- 
port. Generals  Sullivan  and  Lafayette  and  some 
other  American  officers  went  aboard  the  flag-ship. 

At  once  difficulties  arose.  D'Estaing  and  Sulli- 
van did  not  agree,  especially  as  to  the  use  of  the 
French  troops  to  be  landed  from  the  fleet.  Under 
a  thin  veil  of  courtesy  was  unfortunate  racial  an- 
tagonism. France  and  America  had  such  divergent 
standards  and  traditions  that  Europe  from  the  first 
had  doubted  their  ability  to  act  in  concert.  At  any 
rate,  here  at  the  outset,  they  seemed  about  to  fail. 
Likely  but  for  Lafayette  they  would  have  done  so. 
Back  and  forth  he  went  between  camp  and  flag-ship, 
explaining  here,  counseling  there,  and  in  every  way 
seeking  to  further  harmony. 

He  was  successful,  and  finally  all  was  ready  for 
action.  On  August  8,  D'Estaing's  fleet  sailed  in 
before  the  little  island  on  which  Newport  stood, 


94  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

and  which  had  the  same  name  as  the  whole  state, 
Rhode  Island.  On  the  ninth  the  Americans  ad- 
vanced upon  the  island,  behind  the  town.  All  was 
propitious  until  about  two  o'clock  on  that  Sunday 
afternoon,  when  the  lifting  of  a  fog  that  had  hung 
about  the  town  all  day  dashed  the  hopes  of  the 
allies.  Suddenly,  down  from  the  lookout  at  the 
masthead  of  D'Estaing's  flag-ship  came  a  warning 
cry.  A  large  fleet  of  war  vessels,  which  proved  to 
be  the  British  fleet  from  New  York,  was  standing 
in  toward  Newport.  The  French  sailed  out  to  sea 
to  meet  it  A  violent  storm  came  up,  and  raged 
furiously  for  two  days.  The  fleets  were  separated, 
scattered,  and  dismantled. 

On  the  evening  of  the  nineteenth,  the  Americans 
were  rejoiced  to  see  D'Estaing's  returning  vessels 
approaching  the  town.  But,  still  another  disap- 
pointment! The  French  fleet  dropped  anchor  out- 
side the  harbor.  From  the  admiral  came  a  com- 
munication informing  Sullivan  that  his  ships  were 
so  storm-shattered,  he  must  go  at  once  to  Boston  to 
refit.  That  was  a  hard  blow  to  the  Americans ;  and 
they  received  the  statement  with  some  incredulity 
and  even  suspicion.  Sullivan  turned  to  Lafayette, 
hoping  that  he  might  induce  D'Estaing  to  refit  at 
Newport,  and  proceed  with  the  attack  upon  the 
town. 

It  was  a  delicate  and  painful  position  for  Lafay- 
ette. He  took  boat,  with  Greene  and  several  other 


"RHODE  ISLAND"  95 

officers,  and  went  aboard  the  French  flag- ship.  But 
he  wholly  failed  to  change  the  views  of  the  French 
admiral.  Now  the  feelings  of  the  Americans 
against  the  French  ran  high.  Much  of  their  criti- 
cism was  unreasonable,  and  all  of  it  impolitic  and 
unfortunate.  They  had  no  sufficient  knowledge  of 
the  facts  to  enable  them  rightly  to  judge  D'Estaing's 
course,  nor  have  we  to-day ;  but  they  allowed  disap- 
pointment and  suspicion  to  goad  them  into  looks 
and  talk  that  seriously  threatened  rupture  of  our 
alliance  with  France. 

Doubtless  the  trouble  would  have  blown  over  if 
Sullivan  had  been  a  Washington.  But,  though  an 
honorable  and  efficient  officer,  he  was  hasty  and 
tactless.  He  sent  a  protest  to  D'Estaing,  and  is- 
sued a  general  order  to  the  army,  each  of  which 
contained  an  imputation  of  desertion  on  the  part 
of  the  French.  At  this,  Lafayette  broke  through 
his  restraint,  and  answered  in  language  he  had  never 
expected  to  use  toward  Americans.  In  the  heat  of 
the  moment  he  cried  that  he  was  ready  to  support 
his  words  with  his  sword.  Indeed,  as  between  him 
and  Sullivan,  a  duel  seemed  at  one  time  inevitable. 

But  in  the  end  much  good  sense  was  shown  on 
all  sides.  The  American  officers,  impatient  and  ir- 
ritated as  they  were  over  the  failure  of  the  expedi- 
tion, sought  to  explain  and  to  soften  the  situation 
for  the  young  Frenchman,  even  Sullivan  making  a 
clumsy  sort  of  retraction;  while  Lafayette,  sore  at 


96  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

heart  but  loyal,  never  faltered  in  his  faithful  service 
to  America.  Indeed,  we  next  see  him  upon  another 
mission,  at  the  request  of  Sullivan,  to  intercede  for 
the  patriot  army — this  time  bearing  the  request  to 
D'Estaing  at  Boston  that  the  fleet's  land  troops, 
anyway,  be  sent  back  to  Newport. 

This  journey  to  Boston  was  an  especially  dis- 
tasteful one  to  Lafayette,  for  he  felt  that  he  was 
leaving  the  army  just  when  fighting  was  imminent. 
But  he  set  out  at  once.  And  the  speed  of  his  re- 
markable ride  told  of  his  zeal  to  accomplish  his 
mission  and  to  get  back  to  the  front.  In  the  darkness 
of  night,  he  rode  from  Newport  to  Boston,  some- 
thing over  seventy  miles  as  he  went,  in  seven  hours ! 
And  the  same  zeal  that  he  showed  in  the  saddle,  he 
showed  in  his  meeting  with  the  French  admiral. 
The  boy's  impassioned  appeal  was  successful. 
D'Estaing  agreed  to  send  his  land  troops  to  the 
aid  of  Sullivan. 

But  it  was  now  too  late.  One  moment  in  La- 
fayette's ears  the  music  of  D'Estaing's  promise; 
and  the  next,  the  news  that  Sullivan,  unable  to  hold 
on  longer,  was  retreating  from  his  position  before 
Newport.  In  hot  haste,  Lafayette  again  sprang  to 
the  saddle.  And  the  sting  of  the  thought  that  there 
was  fighting,  and  he  not  there,  brought  an  im- 
petuous horseman  dashing  into  Newport  at  eleven 
o'clock  that  night, — six  and  a  half  hours  out  of 
Boston ! 


"RHODE  ISLAND"  97 

He  found  that  the  Americans  had  been  attacked 
by  the  British,  and  had  won  a  hotly  contested  battle ; 
but  that  news  of  approaching  reinforcements  for 
the  English,  was  compelling  Sullivan  to  retreat  with 
all  haste  from  Rhode  Island.  Without  a  moment's 
rest  after  a  ride  such  as  few  men  could  endure,  La- 
fayette flung  himself  into  the  work  of  the  retreat, 
and,  as  .usual,  into  the  place  of  greatest  danger.  He 
took  command  of  the  rear-guard  of  the  army;  and 
the  last  boat  to  cross  from  the  island  to  the  mainland 
was  the  one  that  carried  him. 

But  it  carried  an  unhappy  man.  Despite  his 
having  been  absent  on  a  mission  at  the  request  of 
Sullivan,  and  his  having  made  desperate  rides  to  get 
back  to  the  front,  the  fact  that  he  had  not  been  there 
in  time  for  the  battle  weighed  heavily  upon  him. 
However,  there  were  others  who  appreciated  more 
fully  his  services  in  the  Newport  enterprise.  His 
distress  must  have  disappeared  when  he  received 
commendatory  letters  from  Washington,  and  even 
a  resolution  of  thanks  from  Congress  for  his  sacri- 
fice in  going  to  Boston  at  such  a  time,  and  for  his 
gallantry  in  going  on  the  island  and  bringing  off  the 
last  of  the  American  forces. 

It  was  in  acknowledging  this  tribute  from  Con- 
gress that  Lafayette  made  use  of  the  words  so  often 
quoted,  and  which  so  beautifully  express  his  de- 
votion to  the  cause  of  liberty,  and  to  our  struggling 
country:  "The  moment  I  heard  of  America,  I 


98  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

loved  her ;  the  moment  I  knew  she  was  fighting  for 
freedom,  I  burnt  with  a  desire  of  bleeding  for  her ; 
and  the  moment  I  shall  be  able  to  serve  her  at  any 
time,  or  in  any  part  of  the  world,  will  be  the 
happiest  one  of  my  life." 

As  it  turned  out,  the  Rhode  Island  affair  was  the 
last  American  military  enterprise  in  which  Lafay- 
ette was  to  be  engaged  for  some  time  to  come,  the 
last  that  was  to  find  representation  upon  the  sword 
he  was  to  receive  from  Congress.  Again  a  minor 
part  had  been  his  to  play;  again  he  had  played  it 
well.  And  through  what  a  test  of  honor  and  fidelity ! 
Conquering  his  own  hot  blood,  he  had  spent  himself 
to  stay  the  rift  between  France  and  America.  We 
may  forget  the  young  marquis's  thrilling  ride  to 
battle,  and  his  brave  and  skilful  covering  of  the 
American  retreat ;  but  we  should  not  forget  the  sore- 
tried,  unwavering  loyalty  of  the  boy  represented  by 
the  Rhode  Island  medallion  upon  that  sword  from 
Congress. 


CHAPTER  XI 

A    FRENCH-AMERICAN    OFFICER    ON    FURLOUGH 

THE  campaign  of  1778  was  virtually  at  an  end. 
Neither  Washington  nor  Clinton  had  re- 
sources for  any  further  important  operations. 
D'Estaing  sailed  away  for  the  West  Indies.  Under 
these  circumstances,  Lafayette's  heart  turned 
toward  wife  and  child,  and  toward  his  country,  too. 
For  now  France  herself  was  in  the  war,  and  there 
were  rumors  that  she  was  about  to  invade  England ; 
unless  he  could  do  better  service  for  her  where  he 
was,  his  place  was  with  the  battle-flag  of  his  king. 
After  advising  with  Washington,  Lafayette  went 
to  Philadelphia  about  the  middle  of  October,  and 
presented  to  the  Congress  a  petition  for  leave  of 
absence  in  which  he  said,  "I  dare  flatter  myself  that 
I  shall  be  looked  upon  as  a  soldier  on  furlough, 
who  most  heartily  wishes  to  join  again  his  colors, 
and  his  much  esteemed  and  beloved  soldiers." 

It  was  in  granting  this  request  for  leave  of  ab- 
sence that  Congress  conferred  upon  Lafayette  the 
great  mark  of  honor,  the  sword.  It  adopted  a  reso- 
lution, "That  the  minister  plenipotentiary  of  the 
United  States  at  the  Court  of  Versailles  be  di- 

99 


ioo  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

reeled  to  cause  an  elegant  sword,  with  proper  de- 
vices, to  be  made  and  presented,  in  the  name  of  the 
United  States,  to  the  Marquis  de  Lafayette." 

That  sword  Benjamin  Franklin  was  soon  to  have 
made  in  Paris.  It  was  to  be  the  sword  that  should 
tell  of  Gloucester,  and  devotion  to  freedom;  of 
Barren  Hill,  and  patient  suffering;  of  Monmouth, 
and  chivalrous  sacrifice ;  of  Rhode  Island,  and  tested 
loyalty. 

As  the  news  of  Lafayette's  intended  absence 
spread,  tributes  to  his  worth  and  gallantry  came 
from  all  sides.  And  such  a  little  while  before  he 
had  come  to  our  coast  in  the  night,  an  unknown 
boy,  half-lost  in  the  darkness  and  the  wilderness 
of  a  strange  land.  Now  he  was  leaving  that  land, 
one  of  the  recognized  leaders  of  its  great  Revolu- 
tion, and  second  only  to  Washington  in  the  hearts 
of  the  people. 

It  was  late  in  October  when  Lafayette  left  Phila- 
delphia for  Boston,  at  which  port  the  Alliance,  the 
finest  war  vessel  of  the  United  States  Navy  was 
waiting  to  carry  him  across  the  ocean.  His  ride 
would  take  him  by  way  of  the  American  head- 
quarters on  the  Hudson,  and  give  him  a  few  last 
days  with  Washington.  It  proved  a  hard  trip. 
He  was  exposed  to  the  wind  and  rain  of  most  in- 
clement weather,  and  to  what  was  far  more  trying, 
the  ceaseless  attentions  of  an  admiring  people. 


A  FRENCH-AMERICAN  OFFICER    101 

Day  after  day,  at  every  town  through  which  he 
passed,  there  were  festivities  in  his  honor. 

At  length  exertion,  exposure,  and  social  strain 
took  their  toll,  and  when  the  exhausted  rider  got 
off  his  horse  at  the  town  of  Fishkill,  on  the  Hudson, 
he  was  not  to  sit  his  saddle  again  for  many  a  day. 
There  he  succumbed  to  a  violent  illness.  Fortun- 
ately he  was  now  near,the  headquarters  of  his  "dear 
general,"  who  was  soon  at  his  side.  In  those  days, 
men  who  had  thought  the  great  commander  cold 
and  unfeeling,  looked  into  his  grief -stricken  eyes, 
and  knew  him  better.  At  last  came  long  days  of 
convalescence,  spent  with  Washington. 

Once  more  in  the  saddle,  but  with  his  physician 
riding  at  his  side,  Lafayette  set  out  again.  On  a 
December  day  he  rode  into  Boston,  which  he  found 
a  very  different  looking  city  from  Philadelphia. 
Here  was  no  prim  regularity.  Even  the  houses  broke 
away  from  simple  straight  lines,  and  often  found 
picturesque  forms  in  hipped  roofs  and  projecting 
stories,  while  the  crooked  little  streets  led  nowhere 
and  everywhere. 

Despite  Lafayette's  belated  arrival  in  Boston,  the 
Alliance  was  not  ready  for  sea,  as  she  had  been 
unable  to  get  a  full  crew.  That  was  a  common 
trouble  with  the  vessels  of  the  revolutionary  navy. 
While  America  could  boast  the  best  of  seafaring 
men  in  those  days,  it  was  hard  for  the  navy  to  get 
hold  of  them.  Congress  had  commissioned  many 


102  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

privately  owned  vessels  to  arm  and  prey  upon 
British  commerce,  and  sailors  found  better  pay  and 
more  prize  money  aboard  these  privateers.  This 
accounts  for  the  revolutionary  navy  not  having  ac- 
complished more  than  it  did ;  much  of  the  time  its 
ships  were  lying  useless  in  port  for  want  of  men, 
or  were  on  the  ocean  fighting  with  seasick  land- 
lubbers at  the  guns.  In  the  case  of  the  Alliance 
there  was  talk  of  impressing  the  needed  men.  But 
the  marquis  was  opposed  to  that,  and  the  crew  was 
filled  out  with  British  deserters  and  prisoners, — a 
hazardous  resort  that  was  to  come  very  near  ending 
the  career  of  Lafayette. 

During  those  days  of  waiting,  the  "French  boy's" 
heart  overflowed  in  letters  of  affection  to  Washing- 
ton. One  was  on  the  very  eve  of  departure :  "The 
sails  are  just  going  to  be  hoisted,  my  dear  General, 
and  I  have  but  time  to  take  my  last  leave  of  you. 
.  .  .  Farewell,  my  dear  General;  I  hope  your 
French  friend  will  ever  be  dear  to  you;  I  hope  I 
shall  soon  see  you  again,  and  tell  you  myself  with 
what  emotion  I  now  leave  the  coast  you  inhabit, 
and  with  what  affection  and  respect  I  am  forever, 
my  dear  General,  your  respectful  and  sincere 
friend."  So,  on  January  n,  1779,  through  the 
floating  ice  of  the  winter-bound  harbor,  the  Alliance 
bore  Lafayette  out  upon  his  long  homeward 
voyage. 

There  was  a  favorable  wind,  but  too  much  of  it; 


A  FRENCH-AMERICAN  OFFICER    103 

it  soon  swept  to  a  gale.  For  three  days  the  ship 
fought  the  storm.  Then,  after  a  dark,  wild  night 
that  seemed  the  end  ( the  crew  ready  to  cut  away  the 
masts,  the  ship  steadily  filling)  the  storm  died  down, 
and  the  Alliance,  with  shattered  rigging  but  sea- 
worthy yet,  went  bravely  on  her  way. 

But  more  trouble  was  brewing.  The  English 
sailors,  who  outnumbered  the  rest  of  the  crew, 
hatched  a  plan  to  seize  the  vessel.  On  an  early 
February  afternoon,  all  was  orderly  aboard  ship, — 
suspiciously  orderly,  the  time  set  for  the  uprising 
only  an  hour  away.  Below,  Lafayette  and  the 
ship's  officers  were  at  dinner.  Doubtless  a  merry 
party,  sickness  and  storms  all  forgotten,  and 
France  just  over  the  edge  of  the  sea.  Suddenly  an 
excited  sailor  was  among  them.  The  first  words  of 
his  story  sent  Lafayette  and  the  officers  rushing  on 
deck.  They  summoned  the  loyal  sailors  and  quickly 
had  the  chief  mutineers  seized  and  in  irons. 

From  that  time  all  went  well.  What  must  have 
been  Lafayette's  feelings  that  Saturday,  February 
6,  as  dimly  out  of  the  ocean  rose  the  coast  of 
France !  France,  from  which  he  had  fled  almost  as 
an  outlaw,  disguised  as  a  postboy,  pursued  by  officers 
of  the  king.  Now  he  was  returning  covered  with 
honors,  a  major-general  of  distinction,  upon  a  war- 
ship especially  commissioned  for  his  use.  And 
France  herself  was  following  where  he  had  led! 

Higher  and  clearer  rose  the  land  ahead,  that  great 


104  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

arm  of  Brittany  that  France  reaches  out  toward 
America,  Along  the  coast  villages  stood  out, 
strangely  clear.  The  Alliance  held  for  a  slowly 
lifting  headland,  and  sailed  under  looming  fortifi- 
cations into  the  harbor  of  Brest.  And  then  came  a 
moment  when  Lafayette's  heart  leaped.  Flash 
after  flash,  roar  after  roar,  from  the  great  guns  of 
the  forts.  The  salute  of  France  to  the  flag  of 
America!  The  thunder  of  the  guns,  echoing  from 
the  hillsides  of  the  harbor,  brought  most  of  the  clat- 
tering sabots  of  Brest  down  to  the  waterfront,  and 
began  an  ovation  to  Lafayette  in  which  all  France 
was  to  join. 

On  Friday,  February  12,  Lafayette  reached  Ver- 
sailles, the  royal  city  in  which  he  had  spent  much  of 
his  life.  There  was  the  academy  where  he  had  gone 
to  school  with  his  fellow  nobles  and  with  princes; 
there,  the  Place  d'Armes,  where  he  had  taken  part 
in  manceuvers  under  the  banner  of  the  regiment 
De  Noailles;  there  the  great  white  palace  where  he 
had  attended  the  king's  levees,  and  danced  at  the 
queen's  balls. 

The  return  of  the  marquis  had  its  perplexing 
features  for  the  French  Government.  The  boy  had 
left  the  country  in  contempt  of  a  lettre  de  cachet, 
and  almost  with  his  tongue  in  his  cheek  at  the 
French  king.  Kings  and  lettres  de  cachet  were  not 
things  to  be  laughed  at.  There  must  be  punish- 
ment meted  out.  And  yet  the  whole  setting  of  the 


A  FRENCH-AMERICAN  OFFICER    105 

stage  had  rather  embarrassingly  changed.  The 
king  himself  was  now  fighting  for  the  very  cause 
that  the  boy  had  run  away  to  champion.  Besides, 
the  young  offender  had  complicated  matters  by  com- 
ing back  so  covered  with  glory  that  the  people 
would  not  be  able  to  see  the  culprit  for  the  hero. 
What  was  to  be  done  ?  The  answer  was  thorough- 
ly French,  and  thoroughly  satisfactory  all  around. 

When  Lafayette  entered  Versailles,  his  cousin, 
the  Prince  de  Poix,  was  ready  to  take  him  in  charge ; 
and  there  was  a  one-day  stop,  full  of  the  serio- 
comic, in  the  king's  city.  The  marquis  was  not 
allowed  to  show  himself  publicly,  no  chance  being 
taken  of  popular  demonstrations  in  honor  of  a  sub- 
ject technically  under  the  king's  displeasure;  and 
yet  he  was  presented  with  all  marks  of  distinction 
to  the  ministers  of  the  Government,  and  earnestly 
consulted  by  them !  He  was  not  allowed  to  see  the 
king;  and  yet  it  was  arranged  that  he  should  be  in 
the  palace  gardens  where  the  queen  drove,  that  she 
might  see  him  and  congratulate  him!  He  was  in- 
formed  that  he  was  to  consider  himself  under  arrest 
for  disobedience  of  royal  command;  and  yet  the 
prison  appointed  turned  out  to  be  not  the  Bastille 
but  his  own  home! 

And  so,  that  night,  the  happiest  of  condemned 
culprits  was  on  his  way  again  to  the  capital,  and 
to  the  Hotel  de  Noailles,  the  family  mansion  in 
Paris  having  the  same  name  as  the  one  in  Versailles. 


io6  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

A  swift  ride  over  the  superb  road  to  the  city,  on 
through  the  crowded  streets  to  the  great  hotel  on 
the  Rue  Saint  Honore,  and  then  the  glad  plunge 
into  imprisonment,  his  shackles  the  arms  of  his 
young  wife  and  the  baby  fingers  of  Anastasia, 

That  imprisonment  in  the  family  mansion  con- 
tinued for  some  days,  becoming  more  and  more  a 
matter  of  French  comedy.  The  marquis  had  been 
forbidden  to  receive  visitors  there.  All  the  better 
for  the  comedy.  That  gave  parts  for  delighted 
Paris  to  play.  So  delighted  Paris  assailed  the 
Hotel  de  Noailles,  inquiring  most  formally  for 
Madame  de  Lafayette,  for  her  parents,  or  for  any- 
body indeed  but  the  imprisoned  hero  that  Paris  had 
come  to  see. 

In  the  midst  of  adulation,  the  marquis  did  not 
forget  America.  As  he  could  not  go  to  Franklin 
to  consult  about  her  affairs,  he  wrote  asking  Frank- 
lin to  come  to  him.  And  so  on  a  morning  very 
shortly  after  Lafayette's  arrival  in  Paris,  a  car- 
riage drove  up  to  Number  235  Rue  Saint  Honore, 
and  from  it  alighted,  rather  uncertainly,  the  old 
doctor.  Franklin  was  not  a  stranger  in  this  home, 
and  he  and  Madame  de  Lafayette  were  already 
friends.  How  often,  in  his  grave,  official  packets 
for  America,  had  he  found  place  for  her  love-letters 
to  the  marquis! 

There  were  two  things  of  special  interest  for 
Franklin  and  Lafayette  to  talk  over  that  day. 


A  FRENCH-AMERICAN  OFFICER    107 

Among  the  despatches  the  marquis  had  brought 
from  Congress  was  one  instructing  Franklin  to  pre- 
sent to  the  Marquis  de  Lafayette  an  elegant  sword 
in  the  name  of  the  United  States  of  America.  And 
another  abrogated  the  commission  of  three  envoys 
to  France,  and  appointed  Benjamin  Franklin  as  sole 
minister  to  the  court  of  Versailles. 

A  few  days  later  Lafayette's  imprisonment  came 
to  an  end.  He  wrote  a  letter  of  apology  to  the 
king  he  had  flouted,  whereupon  he  was  summoned 
to  Versailles.  With  feelings  more  of  pride  than 
of  penitence,  the  young  noble  presented  himself 
before  his  monarch.  And  good-natured  King 
Louis,  who  in  truth  liked  the  young  culprit,  soon 
fell  to  talking  interestedly  of  his  life  in  America; 
and  the  "reprimand"  ended  in  royal  congratulations 
upon  the  very  exploits  the  boy  had  run  away  to  get 
into.  Even  honor  followed  soon,  for  he  was  given 
command  of  the  King's  Dragoons. 

It  is  impossible  to  overestimate  the  services  of 
Lafayette  to  our  country  during  this  visit  back  to 
his  native  land  in  1779.  It  was  he  who  kept  zeal 
for  our  cause  from  dying  out  at  the  court  of  Ver- 
sailles. Linking  his  work  with  that  of  the  old 
Doctor,  it  is  probably  safe  to  say  that  but  for  Frank- 
lin we  could  not  have  obtained,  and  but  for  Lafay- 
ette we  could  not  have  retained,  the  effective  support 
of  France  in  the  American  Revolution. 


CHAPTER  XII 
AMERICA'S  PART  OF  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

WHILE  Lafayette  was  ceaselessly  petitioning 
the  French  Government  in  behalf  of  his 
adopted  country,  Doctor  Franklin,  out  at  Passy, 
was  adjusting  himself  to  his  new  position.  At  last 
that  absurd  triumvirate  of  envoys  with  its  incon- 
gruous make-up  was  at  an  end.  At  last  the  one 
American  quite  capable  of  handling  the  situation 
in  France  was  free  to  do  so.  At  last  Benjamin 
Franklin  was  sole  minister  from  the  United  States 
to  the  court  of  Versailles.  In  his  own  way  he  con- 
ducted the  affairs  of  the  embassy.  If  that  way 
meant  more  dining  out  than  working  in,  and 
more  papers  on  the  floor  than  on  the  files,  it  was  a 
good  way,  anyhow,  for  it  got  America  what  she 
sought. 

The  Doctor  acquainted  the  Minister  of  Foreign 
Affairs  with  his  appointment,  and  a  day  was  set 
for  his  presentation  to  the  king  in  his  new  capacity. 
But  Franklin's  movements  were  a  good  deal  subject 
to  the  whims  of  the  tyrant  Gout  And  in  this  case 
that  tyrant  chose  the  same  time  as  Louis  XVI  for 

108 


AMERICA'S  PART  109 

a  meeting  with  the  Doctor,  so  the  audience  with  the 
French  king  had  to  be  postponed. 

However,  there  are  many  things  that  can  be 
done  even  by  a  minister  with  the  gout.  And 
we  may  be  sure  that  one  thing  Franklin  was  giving 
attention  to  now  was  the  procuring  of  that  sword 
for  the  Marquis  de  Lafayette.  Congress  had  set 
the  old  man  a  task  to  his  liking,  and  fortunately  had 
left  him  a  free  hand.  His  to  choose  the  kind  of 
sword,  his  to  determine  all  the  embellishing  devices. 
The  Doctor  may  not  have  known  much  about 
swords,  but  among  his  French  friends  were  nobles 
well  qualified  to  advise  him ;  while  as  to  the  devices, 
he  had  a  knack  of  his  own  along  that  line,  and  he 
drew  some  of  them  himself. 

In  those  days  one  qf  the  most  famous  sword- 
cutlers  of  Paris  was  Liger,  down  near  the  Palais 
Royal  in  a  narrow  little  cross-street,  the  Rue  Co- 
quilliere.  To  Liger,  Franklin  entrusted  the  making 
of  the  sword.  Congress  had  said,  "an  elegant 
sword,"  and  an  elegant  sword  it  was  to  be.  No 
pains  were  spared  to  make  the  gift  truly  carry  its 
story  and  its  sentiment.  More  than  once  Franklin's 
coach  came  rolling  into  little  Rue  Coquilliere,  and 
deposited  the  Doctor  for  conference  with  the 
famous  Liger. 

Another  thing  taking  Franklin  to  Paris  now  was 
his  growing  friendship  for  Lafayette.  But  he  no 
longer  drove  down  old  Rue  Saint  Honore  to  the 


no  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

Hotel  de  Noailles.  Lafayette  had  established  a 
home  of  his  own.  He  and  his  Adrienne  had  had 
that  idea  in  mind  for  a  long  while.  One  day  when 
he  was  in  America  she  had  received  a  letter  from 
him  that  ran  wistfully :  "Do  you  not  think  that,  at 
my  return,  we  shall  be  old  enough  to  establish  our- 
selves in  our  own  house,  and  to  live  there  happily 
together?  I  enjoy  thus  building  in  France  castles 
of  felicity  and  pleasure!  you  always  share  them 
with  me,  my  dearest  heart." 

Evidently  "our  own  house"  appealed  to  his 
"dearest  heart;"  besides,  was  not  her  French 
colonel  and  American  major-general  too  important 
a  man  now  not  to  have  his  independent  establish- 
ment? So,  in  that  spring  of  1779,  the  young  couple 
turned  their  backs  upon  the  great  family  mansion 
to  seek  their  "castle  of  felicity."  They  found  it  on 
the  other  side  of  the  Seine,  where  the  lofty  dome  of 
the  Invalides  marked  the  aristocratic  faubourg  of 
Saint  Germain.  Over  there  next  to  the  beautiful 
gardens  at  the  end  of  old  Rue  de  Bourbon,  they 
discovered  a  great  house  to  their  liking,  and  proudly 
rechristened  it  the  Hotel  de  Lafayette.  There  was 
a  high-walled  garden  running  back  a  whole  square, 
a  charming  bit  of  outdoors  for  the  little  Marquise 
and  baby  Anastasia. 

As  the  summer  drew  on  France  and  Spain  were 
planning  to  send  a  fleet  and  a  great  army  across  the 
Channel  for  a  descent  upon  England.  France  was 


AMERICA'S  PART  in 

already  collecting  forces  and  vessels  for  transports 
along  her  Channel  coast  from  Havre  to  St.  Malo. 
The  fleet  of  war-ships  was  to  come  up  from  the 
Mediterranean.  Lafayette  had  an  "important  and 
agreeable"  command  in  the  expedition  as  aide- 
matrechal-^eneral  des  logis.  Now  he  set  out  for 
Havre  to  join  the  army  of  invasion. 

The  invasion  of  England!  How  those  words 
must  have  carried  his  thoughts  centuries  back  to  that 
great  prototype  of  this  expedition,  the  invasion  of 
England  from  the  same  coast  by  William  the  Con- 
queror !  And  soon,  as  his  horse  struck  into  the  old 
roads  of  Normandy,  how  every  mile  of  the  way  tied 
the  present  expedition  to  that  historic  one!  For 
now  he  was  in  William  the  Conqueror's  own 
country. 

All  the  way  to  the  coast  there  would  ride  beside 
the  marquis  the  phantom  of  that  great  figure  in 
armor  on  the  heavy  Norman  war-horse;  accoutered 
with  sword  and  lance  and  kite-shield;  eagle-eyed, 
fierce-visaged  under  the  helmet  with  the  ducal 
crown, — William,  Duke  of  Normandy.  So  com- 
panied,  the  ardent  young  noble  pressed  on.  And 
the  road  was  the  Conqueror's  road;  and  the  towns 
were  his,  and  the  grim  castles  on  their  wooded 
heights.  On  through  a  beautiful  country-side  (the 
great  duke  had  known  it  well)  where  silver-gray 
rivers  swept  round  lofty  cliffs,  and  after  a  while 
Rouen  was  reached,  the  city  of  ever-chiming  bells. 


112  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

Rouen — the  Conqueror's  capital  city.  And  then 
came  Lillebonne,  where  a  frowning  castle  stood 
high  above  the  town — the  Conqueror's  castle.  Up 
there,  in  the  great  baronial  hall,  the  duke  and  his 
knights  first  openly  spoke  their  minds  as  to  the  dar- 
ing enterprise,  the  invasion  of  England.  There 
each  knight  told  what  number  of  men  and  of  ships 
he  would  supply,  his  quota  being  set  down  against 
his  name  in  a  book. 

Journeying  on,  Lafayette  came,  in  the  beginning 
of  July,  to  the  hills  of  the  Norman  coast  and  looked 
down  upon  the  sea-bordered  plain  below,  half  ex- 
pecting, one  might  think,  to  behold  the  embarking 
host  of  William  the  Conqueror.  Instead,  that 
plain  was  filled  with  the  host  of  Louis  XVI.  Out 
beyond,  in  sheltered  waters  near  where  the  great 
duke's  little  boats  once  lay,  were  countless  transports 
for  the  expedition  of  the  French  king.  And  there 
in  a  cleft  in  the  hills  was  Havre.  Not  much  of  a 
place  in  those  days,  but  strongly  walled  all  about 
with  frowning  ramparts.  It  behooved  the  traveler 
to  get  down  from  the  hills  and  to  make  his  entrance 
before  nightfall  when  the  gates  of  the  walls  would 
swing  shut.  Lafayette  took  up  his  station  in  the 
town  just  opposite  the  port,  where  he  could  overlook 
the  waiting  vessels,  delighted  to  find  himself  in  the 
midst  of  preparations  for  the  great  invasion. 

But  the  days  and  the  weeks  passed;  and  though 
anxious  eyes  were  turned  seaward,  no  spread  of  sail 


AMERICA'S  PART  113 

whitened  out  there  to  tell  the  coming  of  the  allied 
fleet.  One  day  while  Lafayette  was  chafing  over 
the  fatal  delay,  young  Temple  appeared  at  Havre. 
He  was  the  envoy  of  his  grandfather  to  present  to 
the  marquis  the  sword  of  Congress.  And  we  have 
the  marquis's  word  for  it  that  the  handsome  sword 
was  presented  handsomely. 

It  was  a  strange  scene,  a  scene  of  international 
significance,  the  actors  virtually  two  mere  boys.  A 
few  words,  a  golden  hilt  passing  from  one  young 
hand  to  another,  and  it  was  all  over.  But  in  that 
moment  France  and  America  drew  nearer  together; 
and  what  had  been  but  an  elegant  weapon  became 
a  symbol  of  the  struggle  for  liberty. 

It  was  a  symbol  that  had  its  immediate  value. 
The  news  that  Lafayette  had  been  presented  with 
an  epee  de  honneur  from  the  Congress  of  America 
flew  through  the  camps.  It  had  "a  tremendous 
effect  upon  the  army."  The  young  French  officers 
gathered  into  Lafayette's  quarters,  congratulating, 
questioning,  each  eagerly  grasping  the  glittering 
sword,  and  feeling  the  urge  of  its  call  to  the  Ameri- 
can crusade.  Lafayette's  own  delight  in  the  gift 
was  boundless,  and  found  expression  in  the  words, 
"That  sword  I  am  proud  to  carry  into  the  heart  of 
England!" 

It  was  a  superb  weapon,  showing  the  perfection 
just  at  that  time  reached  in  sword-designing;  a 
slender,  gleaming,  viciously  beautiful  thing.  Upon 


H4  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

the  hilt  of  gold  was  the  work  of  the  best  artists  of 
Paris,  in  line  and  in  low-relief.  Among  the  finely 
wrought  embellishments  were  the  four  large  medal- 
lions emblematic  of  this  young  hero's  deeds  at  Glou- 
cester, Barren  Hill,  Monmouth,  and  Rhode  Island. 
Combined  with  these  were  devices  of  knighthood, 
so  appropriately  giving  to  this  sword  the  touch  of 
romance  and  of  chivalry.  The  presentation  in- 
scription ran :  "From  the  American  Congress  to  the 
Marquis  de  Lafayette,  1779."  This  gold  hilt  was 
to  become  America's  part  of  the  Sword  of  Liberty. 


CHAPTER  XIII 
AMERICA'S  FRIEND  AT  COURT 

BUT  Lafayette  was  not  to  carry  his  new  sword 
into  England.  Though  at  last  the  fleet  of 
France  and  Spain  arrived  in  the  Channel,  it  was  too 
late.  The  English  had  gathered  their  forces,  and 
the  attempt  to  imitate  William  the  Conqueror  was 
abandoned. 

This  failure  did  not  leave  France  without  other 
projects  for  the  war.  All  along  Lafayette  had  been 
urging  the  ministry  to  send  a  second  French  ex- 
pedition, with  a  force  of  land  troops,  to  America. 
It  was  a  proposal  that  nobody  but  Lafayette  would 
have  thought  of  making.  Everything  was  against 
it.  America  did  not  want  the  troops;  France  did 
not  want  to  send  them.  The  D'Estaing  expedition 
had  turned  out  so  badly  that  the  idea  of  combined 
forces  was  out  of  favor  on  both  sides  of  the 
Atlantic.  But  Lafayette  insisted  that  despite  the 
unfortunate  experience,  the  American  army  could 
be  successfully  reinforced  by  French  troops;  and 
indeed  would  have  to  be  to  win  the  struggle.  At 
the  opening  of  1780,  he  was  seeking  Franklin's  aid, 
hoping  that  the  Doctor  could  induce  Congress  to 

115 


n6  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

favor  the  coming  of  French  troops,  and  to  make  a 
request  for  them. 

But  also  now  Lafayette  was  anxious  to  impress 
upon  Franklin  another  important  matter, — that 
there  was  a  new  member  of  the  family  just  arrived 
at  the  Hotel  de  Lafayette,  a  boy,  and  that  he  was 
named  for  George  Washington.  The  United  States 
Minister,  with  his  usual  versatility,  had  no  trouble 
in  considering  both  the  baby  and  the  proposed 
expedition  to  America  at  the  same  time.  Both 
received  his  approval.  As  to  the  little  bundle  in 
the  cradle  he  was  enthusiastic ;  but  as  to  the  expedi- 
tion he  had  to  act  reservedly  because  of  racial  feel- 
ings at  home. 

In  January  the  ministry  yielded  to  Lafayette's 
appeal ;  the  king's  order  issued ;  and  a  second  expedi- 
tion to  America  was  in  preparation.  At  once  arose 
the  question  concerning  leadership.  As  to  the  fleet, 
the  command  was  given  to  the  Comte  de  Ternay. 
As  to  the  land  forces,  the  ministry  was  not  long  left 
in  doubt  about  Lafayette's  views.  He  thought  the 
proper  man  was  Lafayette.  The  marquis  was 
likely  to  think  that  way  upon  such  occasions.  He 
had  a  good  deal  of  confidence  in  himself  and  was 
never  backward  about  asking.  At  the  same  time, 
he  always  recognized  the  rights  of  others,  and  never 
sulked  when  what  he  sought  went  to  other  men. 

In  this  case,  his  claim  to  leadership  was  a  strong 
one,  but  it  could  not  stand  against  the  stern  fact 


AMERICA'S  FRIEND  AT  COURT     117 

that  after  all  he  was  little  more  than  a  boy,  and  only 
a  colonel  in  the  French  army.  So  the  command  of 
the  land  forces  went  to  Lieutenant-General  the 
Comte  de  Rochambeau,  one  of  the  king's  most  ex- 
perienced officers.  It  was  arranged  that  Lafayette 
should  hasten  to  America  to  herald  the  expedition, 
and  that  then  he  should  be  free  to  resume  his  posi- 
tion in  the  patriot  army. 

Now  there  was  much  to  be  done,  and  cautiously, 
for  the  whole  expedition  was  wrapped  in  profound 
secrecy.  And,  France  being  France,  it  was  all  to  be 
done  in  a  delaying  maze  of  formality  and  festivity. 
The  young  marquis  was  of  the  court  circle;  while  he 
must  make  ready  for  his  momentous  journey, 
equally  must  he  be  ready  to  answer  summons  to 
hunt  with  the  king,  to  dine  with  the  queen,  to  at- 
tend court  functions. 

One  of  the  main  things  on  Lafayette's  mind  was 
to  get  ready  a  large  supply  of  clothing  to  take  with 
him  for  the  American  soldiers.  His  pride  was  up, 
his  American  pride.  He  would  not  have  those 
showy  French  troops  that  were  to  follow  him  see 
Washington's  soldiers  in  rags  and  tatters.  Eagerly 
he  besought  Franklin  to  see  that  the  uniforms  were 
got  ready;  and,  with  his  usual  mad  generosity,  he 
declared  that  if  the  embassy  did  not  have  money 
enough  he  himself  would  supply  the  deficiency. 
Money!  Money!  Money!  With  all  we  could  fur- 
nish ourselves  and  with  all  we  could  borrow,  there 


n8  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

was  never  enough.  Indeed,  but  for  the  liberality 
of  France,  American  independence  could  not  have 
been  bought,  for  we  could  not  have  paid  the  price. 

One  evening  in  the  first  week  of  March,  1780,  a 
handsome  coach  attended  by  running  footmen  and 
by  lackeys  in  livery  bright  with  gold  lace,  came 
rolling  into  the  courtyard  of  the  Hotel  de  Valen- 
tinois — Monsieur  le  Marquis  de  Lafayette  to  take 
leave  of  the  American  Minister. 

And  yet  to  any  one  who  had  known  the  marquis 
in  America,  there  would  have  seemed  something 
strange  about  the  young  man  who  now  stepped  from 
the  carriage.  America  had  seen  but  Lafayette  the 
United  States  soldier;  here  was  Lafayette  the 
French  noWe,  the  elegantly  dressed  courtier  that  he 
was  in  those  days.  He  was  ushered  into  a  richly 
furnished  room,  and  into  the  presence  of  Franklin. 
Picture  the  old  man  sitting  there  in  the  March  eve- 
ning before  the  open  fire.  He  sits  in  a  lax,  heavy 
way,  a  gouty  leg  held  out,  and  his  chin,  after  that 
habit  of  his,  oddly  resting  on  the  tip  of  his  thumb. 
But  back  of  those  quiet  eyes,  perhaps  even  a  little 
dreamy  in  the  firelight,  is  still  the  keenest  of  minds ; 
and  now  the  eyes  themselves  flash  bright  in  warm 
welcome  to  Lafayette.  Quickly  the  young  French- 
man steps  forward  to  pay  parting  respect  to  the 
venerable  minister. 

Two  men  to  whom  the  cause  of  liberty  owes 
much!  But  for  Franklin  and  Lafayette,  each  true 


AMERICA'S  FRIEND  AT  COURT     119 

to  his  own  land  but  reaching  out  understandingly 
toward  the  land  of  the  other,  the  bond  between 
France  and  America  might  have  failed  and  the  cause 
of  the  patriots  with  it  Often  in  the  stress  and 
strain  of  suspicion  and  jealousy  these  two  human 
links  seemed  all  that  held. 

When  Lafayette  went  to  take  formal  leave  of  his 
king,  envious  courtiers  gathered  in  the  royal  ante- 
chamber to  see  the  romantic  young  soldier,  a  second 
time  bound  overseas  to  that  land  of  adventure.  By 
special  concession  of  the  king,  he  appeared  in  his 
uniform  of  a  major-general  in  the  American  army, 
and  wearing  the  honor  sword  from  Congress. 

At  last  came  Lafayette's  parting  from  his  family. 
Considering  all  that  the  marquis  had  done,  and  his 
prominence  upon  two  continents,  it  is  hard  to  realize 
what  very  young  people  these  yet  were,  saying 
good-by  to  each  other.  Even  now  Lafayette  was 
but  twenty-two  years  old,  and  the  little  marquise 
was  but  nineteen.  Theirs  was  a  married  life  of 
deep  affection.  Again  war  and  the  sea  were  to 
come  between  them.  And  this  time  there  were  two 
children  to  make  the  parting  harder,  Anastasia, 
nearly  three  years  old,  and  little  George  Washington 
as  many  months. 

Bearing  the  king's  secret,  which  he  was  going  to 
carry  straight  to  Washington,  Lafayette  soon 
reached  the  coast  where  the  winds  blow  wild  over 
the  great  salt  marshes  of  the  Straits  of  Antioch. 


120  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

Here  was  the  safest  point  from  which  to  sail;  and 
here  lay  waiting  the  king's  frigate,  the  Hermione. 
With  the  marquis  aboard,  the  ship  stood  up  the 
harbor  toward  a  white-walled  town,  La  Rochelle, 
where  she  was  to  take  on  thousands  of  uniforms  for 
the  American  soldiers.  She  tacked  around  the 
quaint  old  lantern-tower  that  for  centuries  had 
lighted  vessels  home,  and  in  amongst  the  shipping 
before  the  town,  but  only  to  disappointment.  The 
uniforms  had  not  arrived.  Lafayette  held  his  ves- 
sel here  a  day  or  two,  but  fruitlessly.  On  a  dark 
March  night  she  weighed  anchor,  sailed  out  under 
the  faint  glow  of  the  old  lantern-tower,  and  put  to 
sea. 

After  a  tedious,  uneventful  voyage  the  Hernuonc 
arrived  at  the  port  of  Boston  on  April  27.  All  the 
city  learned  who  was  aboard  the  beautiful  frigate 
landing  at  Hancock's  wharf.  The  people  crowded 
to  the  harbor  front.  Cannon  boomed  from  ships 
and  batteries.  Lafayette  disembarked  in  a  welcom- 
ing tumult.  With  music  and  cheering,  and  three- 
cornered  hats  up  in  the  air,  he  was  escorted  into  the 
town.  Well  up  the  hill  the  procession  came  to  a 
stop  in  front  of  a  broad,  stately  mansion,  the  home 
of  one  of  America's  most  prominent  patriots,  John 
Hancock,  whose  guest  Lafayette  became  for  the 
time  of  his  stay  in  Boston.  Here  he  met  warm 
hospitality;  and  here  too  he  picked  up  the  story  of 
how  things  had  been  going  in  America. 


AMERICA'S  FRIEND  AT  COURT     121 

In  the  North,  during  Lafayette's  absence,  there 
had  been  a  strange  military  inactivity.  Through  all 
that  year  of  1 779  Washington  had  been  too  weak  to 
attack  the  British  force  at  New  York,  and  that 
force  had  made  no  serious  attempt  to  attack  him. 
During  this  long  deadlock,  however,  each  side  had 
undertaken  some  minor  operations.  The  British 
had  made  several  marauding  expeditions  about  New 
York  and  along  the  coast,  the  most  serious  of  these 
having  been  an  incursion  into  Connecticut,  which 
had  done  them  little  good  but  had  blackened  their 
name  by  its  outrages  upon  defenseless  people. 
Sharp  encounters  had  taken  place  over  two  little 
posts  on  the  Hudson,  Stony  Point  and  Verplanck's 
Point;  encounters  always  to  be  remembered  on  ac- 
count of  the  brilliancy  of  the  fighting,  though  of 
little  effect  upon  the  military  situation.  But  it  was 
Georgia  and  South  Carolina  that  had  seen  the  chief 
military  activity  while  Lafayette  had  been  away. 
Clinton  had  suddenly  shifted  the  English  offensive 
from  the  North  to  the  South,  sending  troops  from 
New  York  to  cooperate  with  his  Southern  forces. 
All  had  gone  well  for  the  British  in  the  new  field 
of  battle,  Georgia  soon  being  completely  conquered. 
A  vigorous  effort  had  been  made  by  the  American 
Southern  forces  under  Lincoln,  aided  by  the  fleet  of 
D'Estaing,  which  had  come  up  from  the  West 
Indies  for  the  purpose,  to  break  the  British  hold 


122  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

upon  Georgia  by  retaking  Savannah.  But  the  at- 
tempt had  failed. 

Elated  -over  the  success  in  Georgia,  Clinton  had 
concentrated  his  Northern  forces  by  abandoning 
Newport,  and,  taking  what  troops  could  be  spared 
from  New  York,  had  himself  sailed  southward  to 
conquer  the  Carolinas.  He  had  turned  in  at 
Charleston,  then  occupied  by  Lincoln's  army,  and 
had  settled  down  to  a  determined  siege  of  the  city. 
That  siege  was  still  going  on. 

Such  was  the  war-story  that  the  returning  La- 
fayette heard  as  he  sat  in  Hancock's  house  on 
Beacon  Hill  and  looked  out  over  the  town  and  har- 
bor of  Boston.  It  was  not  a  very  pretty  story  to 
the  ears  of  that  fighter  for  liberty.  While  he  was 
gone,  there  had  been  no  gains  for  the  patriots  in 
the  North;  there  had  been  loss  after  loss  in  the 
South.  Nor  was  that  all.  Soon  the  young  French- 
man learned  that  America  was  in  a  plight  which 
no  mere  tale  of  the  fighting  could  disclose.  The 
grave,  the  alarming  fact  was  that  the  country  had 
lost  its  nerve.  War-worn,  the  people  were  ready 
to  quit,  were  quitting.  Fighting  patriots  there  still 
were,  and  many  of  them ;  but  they  could  no  longer 
hold  the  people  up  to  the  fighting-spirit.  One 
trouble  was  the  lack  of  money.  So  far  as  American 
means  were  concerned  the  Revolution  was  run  on 
paper  money;  and  by  this  time  it  had  so  depreciated 
as  to  be  virtually  worthless.  The  soldiers  were 


AMERICA'S  FRIEND  AT  COURT     123 

tired  of  fighting,  and  the  people  of  furnishing  sup- 
plies, all  for  paper  money  that  was  useless.  So  the 
armies  had  dwindled  to  pitiful  numbers,  recruiting 
was  almost  impossible,  and  what  soldiers  there  were 
went  starving. 

Even  Lafayette's  unfailing  courage  must  have 
faltered  as  bit  by  bit  he  picked  up  the  dismal  story. 
So  this  was  the  state  of  the  cause  to  whose  support 
he  had  persuaded  his  king  to  send  a  second  expedi- 
tion! 

It  must  have  been  with  a  sick  heart  that  the  young 
Frenchman,  early  in  May,  left  Boston  and  started 
upon  his  long  ride  to  Washington's  headquarters 
at  Morristown,  New  Jersey.  Something  of  a  caval- 
cade his  little  party  made,  with  the  several  French 
officers  who  were  with  him,  his  secretary,  and  his 
personal  servants.  Among  the  latter  was  a  valet 
who  affected  so  strange  and  fierce  a  head-dress  that 
he  was  nicknamed  "the  Devil."  For  days  the  way 
led  through  the  hill  country  south  of  Boston  and 
along  the  sandy  levels  of  New  Jersey.  Somewhere 
on  the  road  Lafayette  saw  approaching  him  a 
number  of  horsemen  of  a  sort  that  he  knew  well. 
Unusually  tall,  fine  riders  in  blue  and  white,  with 
blue-and-white  feathers  in  their  hats.  So  Washing- 
ton had  sent  a  party  of  his  own  body-guard  to 
escort  his  "young  soldier." 

On  they  traveled  across  the  low  country  and  came 
one  morning  to  Morristown.  or  almost  to  it.  For 


124  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

while  yet  the  white  church  steeple  of  the  village 
showed  some  way  off,  there  was  pointed  out  to 
Lafayette  a  broad  white  house  topping  one  of  the 
neighboring  hills,  Washington's  headquarters. 
Riding  up  the  slope,  the  party  saw  little  of  the  main 
army,  as  that  was  encamped  some  distance  away. 
But  all  about  was  the  life  and  bustle  of  head- 
quarters. The  huts  of  Washington's  Life  Guards 
stood  in  a  meadow  near  the  house.  Officers  and 
messengers  went  up  and  down  the  hill.  Sentries 
were  passed. 

Quick  drawing  of  rein,  hot  creak  of  leather, 
rattle  of  swords,  as  the  marquis  and  his  suite  and 
the  Continental  guardsmen  pulled  up  and  dis- 
mounted. Entering  through  a  broad  colonial  door- 
way Lafayette  found  himself  welcomed  not  only 
by  his  general  but  by  Lady  Washington  too,  and  by 
many  officers  whom  the  chief  had  invited  to  attend 
a  dinner  in  his  honor. 

At  the  table  that  day,  we  see  General  and  Lady 
Washington  sitting  side  by  side,  and  with  them  a 
group  of  men  whose  names  bulk  big  in  the  story  of 
the  Revolution.  Near  the  commander-in-chief  sits 
a  tall,  broad-shouldered  man  with  brilliant  blue  eyes 
and  with  such  a  commanding  air  you  would  never 
suspect  he  is  a  Quaker, — that  is  Greene,  throughout 
the  war  the  right  hand  of  Washington.  Another 
guest  belies  his  appearance  still  more — the  big,  full- 
faced,  genial  man  with  the  kindly  smile,  a  smile  not 


AMERICA'S  FRIEND  AT  COURT     125 

to  be  counted  upon  when  dinners  become  battles 
and  Washington  is  depending  upon  Knox.  The 
huge  imposing  figure  sitting  there  with  the  jeweled 
order  upon  his  great  breast  is  not  Mars  himself, 
though  his  martial  air  would  excuse  your  thinking 
so.  That  is  the  man  who  bellowed  and  cursed  and 
goaded  and  loved  the  brave  raw  Americans  into 
disciplined  soldiers,  Baron  von  Steuben.  Near  him 
sits  a  man  impressive  in  another  way.  Tall,  slender, 
nervously  energetic,  with  piercing  black  eyes  and 
with  a  nose  that  beaks  strong  above  a  kindly,  whim- 
sical mouth, — that  is  Schuyler,  a  greater  man  than 
history  paints  him,  who  ought  to  have  had  the  honor 
that  Gates  got  at  the  surrender  of  Burgoyne. 
Across  the  table  from  Washington  is  a  very  small 
young  man ;  but  his  massive  head  and  his  dignity  add 
cubits  to  his  stature.  He  is  presiding  at  the  dinner, 
and  with  that  graceful  courtesy  that  always  dis- 
tinguished Alexander  Hamilton. 

Washington  esteems  them  all,  and  in  his  grave 
way  has  let  them  know  he  does.  But  for  that 
stripling  of  France  that  he  "loves  as  his  own  son," 
his  quiet  gray-blue  eyes  have  a  look  that  no  other 
man  has  ever  been  able  to  bring  into  them. 

After  the  dinner  Washington  and  Lafayette 
withdrew  from  the  company  for  a  private  talk. 
Then  came  the  explosion  of  the  great  secret  that  the 
king's  young  herald  had  bottled  up  for  so  long. 
And  how  did  it  impress  Washington?  We  shall 


126  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

never  quite  know.  Probably  his  view  was  favor- 
able. He  certainly  acted  promptly,  bending  every 
effort  toward  preparing  for  joint  operations  with 
the  French  forces. 

For  a  few  days  Lafayette  remained  at  head- 
quarters. The  commander-in-chief  had  sorely 
missed  his  boy  general,  and  now  everything  goes  to 
show  his  happiness  in  the  reunion.  Of  course  a 
subject  quickly  to  the  fore  in  the  talks  of  these  re- 
united friends  was  that  other  George  Washington. 
The  general's  affection  went  out  to  the  tiny  noble 
across  the  sea  for  his  father's  sake.  But  one  day 
the  little  fellow  was  to  have  a  tug  at  the  great  man's 
heartstrings  on  his  own  account.  A  boy  refugee 
from  the  horrors  of  the  French  Revolution,  wealth 
and  rank  gone,  he  was  to  find  sanctuary  in  America, 
in  the  home  of  his  famous  namesake  at  Mt.  Vernon. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

DAYS   OF    WAITING 

ON  May  14  the  Marquis  de  Lafayette  started 
for  Philadelphia  to  make  necessary  arrange- 
ments for  the  coming  of  the  Rochambeau  expedi- 
tion. He  found  Congress  in  session  in  Inde- 
pendence Hall,  in  the  historic  chamber  where  the 
great  Declaration  was  signed.  It  was  a  noble  room 
about  forty  feet  square  and  very  high,  lighted  by 
deep-casemented  windows  and  paneled  with  artis- 
tically wrought  pilasters.  The  members  of  Congress 
were  seated  somewhat  in  a  circle,  with  green- 
topped  tables  at  convenient  intervals.  The  circle 
was  broken  at  one  point  by  a  low  dais  upon  which, 
in  a  stately  Chippendale  chair,  sat  the  president  be- 
fore a  mahogany  table  bearing  a  curious  four-legged 
object  in  silver  that  was  inkstand,  quill-holder,  and 
sanding-box. 

There  was  a  note  of  incongruity  in  the  scene. 
The  Congress  of  a  bankrupt,  war-ruined  nation, 
and  arrayed  as  though  for  a  fancy-dress  ball !  But 
gaudiness  was  the  note  of  the  times,  and  even  reso- 
lutions to  borrow  more  money  had  to  be  passed  in 

the  brightest  of  coats  and  the  gayest  of  waistcoats. 

127 


128  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

The  returning  young  major-general  received  a  warm 
welcome,  and  doubtless  found  place  of  honor  in 
an  opening  in  the  congressional  circle,  as  visiting 
notables  were  wont  to  do.  Congress  interrupted 
its  proceedings  to  pass  a  resolution  in  honor  of  La- 
fayette, expressing  its  pleasure  at  the  return  of  "so 
gallant  and  meritorious  an  officer." 

Lafayette's  preparations  for  the  arrival  of  the 
French  expedition  were  made  difficult  by  the  un- 
certainties of  navigation  in  those  days.  No  one 
could  foresee  at  what  point  the  fleet  would  arrive 
in  American  waters.  Signal  officers  were  sta- 
tioned at  various  places  on  the  coast,  provided  with 
swift  boats  and  landing  instructions,  ready  to  put 
out  the  instant  the  fleet  should  be  sighted.  The 
landing  instructions  that  the  marquis  sent  would 
read  a  little  oddly  to  those  officers  of  the  French 
expedition,  not  quite  acquainted  as  yet  with  La- 
fayette, the  American  Lafayette.  French  eyebrows 
and  shoulders  would  go  up  over  the  "we"  and  the 
"you"  and  the  "us"  as  a  paragraph  ran,  "We  shall 
all  endeavor  to  merit  the  friendship  and  the  esteem 
of  troops  whose  assistance  at  the  present  moment  is 
so  essential  to  us.  You  will  find  amongst  us  a  great 
deal  of  good  will,  a  great  deal  of  sincerity,  and 
above  all,  a  great  desire  to  be  agreeable  to  you." 
And  written  by  a  French  officer ! 

Every  day  the  marquis  was  receiving  letters  from 
Washington,  planning  and  urging  on  the  prepara- 


DAYS  OF  WAITING  129 

tions ;  and  urging,  too,  that  Lafayette  come  back  to 
him.  We  catch  the  human  nearness  of  these  two  as 
the  grave,  repressed  chief  whips  out,  "Finish  your 
business  as  soon  as  you  can  and  hasten  home,  for  so 
I  would  always  have  you  consider  headquarters  and 
my  house."  And  Washington  needed  him.  It  was 
now  toward  the  last  days  of  May,  and  the  outlook 
only  growing  darker.  The  States  were  not  re- 
sponding to  his  urgent  call.  Recruits  were  not  ar- 
riving. Supplies  were  not  coming  in.  A  murmur 
of  mutiny  was  in  the  ranks.  This  the  preparation 
for  the  great  united  effort  with  allied  forces  that 
now  might  arrive  at  any  moment! 

Look  in  upon  no  unusual  scene  in  headquarters 
on  the  hill  near  Morristown.  It  is  late  in  the  May 
night,  perhaps  almost  dawn ;  but  there  in  the  other- 
wise deserted  office  a  majestic  figure  bends  patient- 
ly over  a  little  ink-stained  despatch  table  with  its 
guttering  candles.  The  fitful  light  shows  the  strong 
face  drawn  with  care  and  anxiety,  as  the  big  mus- 
cular hand  writes  on  steadily, — George  Washington 
making  a  last  appeal  to  his  apathetic  countrymen. 
Look  over  his  broad  shoulder  for  a  moment  as  the 
words  form  in  those  clear  firm  letters : 

The  Court  of  France  has  made  a  glorious  effort  for 
our  deliverance,  and  if  we  disappoint  its  intentions  by 
our  supineness  we  must  become  contemptible  in  the  eyes 
of  all  mankind.  ...  All  our  operations  are  at  a  stand; 
and  unless  a  system  very  different  ...  be  immediately 
adopted  .  .  .  our  affairs  must  soon  become  desperate  be- 


130  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

yond  the  possibility  of  recovery.  .  .  .  We  have  everything 
to  dread.     Indeed  I  have  almost  ceased  to  hope. 

A  day  or  two  more  and  Lafayette  was  "home" 
again.  He  found  Washington  planning  measures 
fairly  desperate.  His  one  chance  lay  in  the  serious- 
ly divided  state  of  the  British  forces,  now  that  so 
considerable  a  body  had  gone  from  New  York  to 
lay  siege  to  Charleston.  If  that  city  could  hold  out 
until  the  French  should  arrive,  then  two  quick 
blows,  one  at  the  reduced  garrison  in  New  York 
and  the  other  at  the  besiegers  of  Charleston,  might 
turn  the  fortunes  of  war.  How  anxiously  the  two 
men  waited  for  news  from  beleaguered  Charleston ! 
How  impatiently  they  looked  for  that  swift  horse- 
man who  should  bring  word  from  those  watchers 
by  the  sea! 

Then  one  day  (it  was  Thursday,  the  first  of  June) 
a  little  handbill,  brought  out  from  New  York, 
ended  even  desperate  hopes.  Charleston  had  fal- 
len! One  of  the  greatest  disasters  of  the  war. 
And  hard  on  the  heels  of  that  news  came  word  of 
many  ships  bearing  into  New  York  harbor — not  the 
arriving  French  fleet,  but  the  returning  British 
fleet,  bringing  back  victorious  Clinton  and  all  his 
troops  except  five  thousand  men  left  under  Corn- 
wallis  to  complete  the  conquest  of  the  Carolinas. 

Now  from  plans  of  aggression  Washington  had 
to  turn  to  those  of  defense,  expecting  Clinton 
flushed  with  victory  to  attack  him  from  New  York. 


DAYS  OF  WAITING  131 

If  the  British  commander  were  to  do  this  with 
energy,  but  one  result  seemed  possible.  As  Wash- 
ington said,  "Their  superiority  will  be  decided,  and 
equal  to  almost  anything  they  may  think  proper  to 
attempt.  .  .  the  most  disastrous  consequences  are 
to  be  apprehended."  And  still  no  word  of  the 
sighting  of  the  French  fleet ! 

But  danger  and  anxiety  never  quite  quench  hope, 
or  make  life  stand  still  and  wait.  In  the  house  on 
the  hill  brave  hearts  watched  and  worked,  and 
laughed  and  sang  as  well.  Among  the  bravest  was 
that  fervid  little  patriot,  Lady  Washington,  in  her 
sober  war-time  dress  of  homespun.  She  had  come 
up  from  Mount  Vernon  in  the  past  winter  in  her 
coach,  with  military  guard,  battling  through  cold 
and  snow,  and  bringing  seven  extra  horses  for  the 
general.  Here  at  Morristown  she  was  constantly 
engaged  upon  some  good  work  for  her  war-lord 
husband  or  his  needy  soldiers. 

In  those  days  of  waiting  we  see  Washington  and 
Lafayette  out  upon  many  a  gallop  to  an  important 
post  of  observation.  While  the  young  Frenchman 
rode  much,  and  well  enough,  he  was  never  at  his 
best  in  the  saddle.  He  must  have  welcomed  these 
opportunities  to  pick  up  points  from  the  "finest 
horseman  of  the  times."  Down  from  headquarters 
they  canter  to  little  Morristown,  where  the  flag 
waves  from  the  Liberty  Pole  and  the  people  flock 
to  the  "green"  to  greet  them.  On  through  the  vil- 


132  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

lage  they  go,  out  on  the  Jockey  Hollow  road,  and 
up  through  the  hills  to  a  lofty  height  upon  whose 
commanding  top  they  draw  rein.  And  there  the 
two  horsemen  stand,  like  raised  emblematic  figures 
silhouetted  against  the  sky, — Washington  and  La- 
fayette, America  and  France,  the  alliance  for 
liberty! 

Spread  out  before  them  is  the  whole  military 
panorama.  Near  at  hand,  hutted  upon  the  hills,  are 
the  soldiers  of  the  little  American  army  in  their 
tatters  and  wretchedness,  held  there,  indeed,  only 
by  their  devotion  to  the  great  chief  now  looking 
down  grave-eyed  upon  them.  Out  beyond,  far  to 
the  east,  New  York  and  the  camps  of  the  British. 
The  story  of  Clinton's  return  is  written  in  the 
added  myriad  of  masts  cutting  across  the  horizon. 

It  was  on  June  6,  in  the  quiet  of  the  dawn,  that  a 
scout  runner  came  panting  up  headquarters  hill. 
He  bore  the  message  that  the  British  were  ad- 
vancing from  New  York  toward  the  American  posi- 
tion. Washington  at  once  took  steps  to  move  his 
army  forward  to  vantage-points.  So  the  campaign 
had  begun.  And  that  meant  separation  again  for 
the  general  and  Lady  Washington ;  he  to  go  to  the 
front,  she  back  to  Mount  Vernon.  Some  time  in 
the  commotion  of  that  morning  their  good-bys  were 
said,  and  soon  the  American  army  was  on  its  way 
down  out  of  the  hills,  though  leaving  a  strong  guard 


DAYS  OF  WAITING  133 

for  the  protection  of  Lady  Washington  as  she  pre- 
pared for  her  departure. 

In  a  day  or  two  her  coach  and  four  stood  before 
the  open  doorway,  black  coachmen,  footmen  and 
postilions  in  white-and-scarlet  livery,  and  mounted 
military  guards  waiting.  Upon  black  faces  some 
very  white  smiles — back-to-Mount-Vernon  smiles 
— are  showing,  as  footmen  and  maid  dispose  of 
their  mistress's  traveling-boxes.  Now  comes  the 
brave  little  wife  of  Washington,  surrounded  by 
loyal  women,  some  the  wives  of  generals,  some  the 
villagers  who  have  come  to  say  good-by  to  one 
whose  kindness  and  graciousness  have  made  her 
very  dear  to  them. 

Doubtless  with  more  cracking  of  whip  and  flour- 
ish of  reins  and  rearing  of  horses  than  is  quite 
necessary  (for  the  proud  black  retinue  sees  to  that) 
the  coach  gets  under  .way  and  goes  swinging  down 
the  hill.  From  this  moment  the  news  travels  fast 
that  "Lady  Washington  is  on  the  road,"  and  ex- 
cited people  gather  to  cheer  as  she  passes,  and  militia 
turn  out  to  give  her  escort,  and  many  great  families 
are  all  a-bustle  preparing  for  the  honor  of  her 
stopping  to  "night"  with  them. 

It  was  a  strange  campaign  opening  that  had  oc- 
casioned this  breaking  up  of  headquarters  at  Morris- 
town.  That  incursion  by  the  British  from  New 
York,  which  the  American  scout  had  heralded, 
proved  to  be  in  considerable  force,  and  it  was  soon 


134  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

supplemented  by  another  under  Clinton  himself; 
but  for  various  reasons  both  turned  out  to  be  odd, 
half-hearted  affairs.  Even  the  miserably  prepared 
Americans  were  quite  able  to  meet  the  situation. 
At  each  incursion,  signal  guns  boomed  and  warning 
beacon-fires  flamed  from  the  hilltops,  and  Washing- 
ton's little  army  with  hastily  gathered  militia  faced 
the  enemy.  There  were  sudden  scattered  attacks, 
sharp  running  encounters  along  the  roads,  and  some 
hotly  contested  little  battles;  but  before  any  major 
engagement  was  reached,  the  British  lost  heart  and 
beat  retreat  Soon  they  were  driven  ignominiously 
back  to  New  York,  and  again  matters  settled  down 
to  that  endless  weary  watching  and  waiting,  the 
struggle  of  endurance. 

Washington  thought  the  next  move  of  the  enemy 
would  be  a  more  direct  attempt  to  wrest  from  the 
Americans  the  control  of  the  Hudson.  He  took 
what  measures  he  could  for  the  safety  of  its  chief 
post,  West  Point,  and  also  moved  his  own  army 
near  to  the  river  in  New  Jersey.  Establishing  his 
headquarters  there,  he  resumed  the  almost  hopeless 
attempt  to  recruit  and  refit  his  army  for  cooperation 
with  the  French.  Immediate  determination  must 
be  made  as  to  just  what  operations  were  to  be  under- 
taken. There  was  bitter  mockery  in  that  thought. 
What  operations  could  be  undertaken  by  such  an 
army  as  his,  even  with  the  aid  of  the  French? 
Washington's  answer  was  a  desperate  one.  Any 


DAYS  OF  WAITING  135 

worth-while  answer  had  to  be.  He  would  greet 
his  allies  with  a  plan  for  immediate  joint  attack 
upon  New  York  itself.  And  now  to  deal  that  bold 
blow  America  was  waiting  through  the  summer  days 
for  the  coming  of  France. 


CHAPTER  XV 

MORE    HELP    FROM    FRANCE 

BUT  was  France  coming?  Day  after  day, 
week  after  week  went  by,  the  watchers  on  the 
coast  scanning  the  sea  in  vain.  Then  suddenly, 
one  July  morning,  it  all  happened.  A  heavy  fog 
hanging  over  the  New  England  shore  lifted,  and 
there,  in  the  outer  harbor  of  Newport,  Rhode 
Island,  lying  quietly  at  anchor,  was  the  French 
fleet.  Despite  the  long  vigilant  watch  that  this 
town  like  so  many  others  had  kept,  Newport  was 
taken  by  surprise. 

In  the  rising  mist  one  of  the  smaller  vessels  took 
on  a  group  of  officers  from  the  flag-ship  and  stood 
in  toward  the  port.  There  was  a  strange  quiet 
about  the  place.  Except  for  some  curious  flocking 
of  people  down  the  hillside  streets  to  the  water- 
front, there  was  no  demonstration.  Newport  was 
too  much  surprised  to  show  welcome — and  felt  little 
welcome  to  show.  This  was  the  town  that  had  seen 
D'Estaing  sail  away  without  attempting  to  rescue  it 
from  the  hands  of  the  British.  Explanations? 
Oh,  yes,  but  they  had  never  counted  for  much  here. 
Besides,  what  awful  tales  of  French  manners  and 

136 


MORE  HELP  FROM  FRANCE       137 

morals  the  good  New  Englanders  had  heard !  And 
now  these  faithless,  virtue-less  allies  were  coming 
right  to  Newport ! 

It  was  about  noon  when  the  French  vessel  came 
up  to  Long  Wharf.  From  it  debarked  a  brilliantly 
uniformed  group — the  pride  of  France — Lieu- 
tenant-General the  Comte  de  Rochambeau  and  his 
staff  of  French  noblemen.  And  they  landed  almost 
in  the  chill  of  silence  upon  American  soil.  It  was 
an  ominous  beginning. 

But  soon  the  situation  mended.  The  frank,  dig- 
nified Rochambeau  made  an  excellent  impression. 
He  quickly  won  the  respect  and  confidence  of  the 
men  of  the  town,  while  his  handsome,  dashing 
young  staff  captivated  the  women.  Major-General 
Heath  of  the  American  Army  arrived  to  welcome 
the  French  officially,  and  one  night  Newport  even 
had  an  illumination.  This  was  a  most  satisfactory 
demonstration,  the  treasurer  supplying  a  box  of 
candles  at  the  expense  of  the  town,  and  the  illumina- 
tion being  bravely  kept  up  until  ten  o'clock. 

With  the  landing  of  the  troops  things  took  on  a 
new  aspect  in  Newport.  To  the  war-worn  dejected 
town  came  life,  color,  music,  commotion.  Trans- 
port after  transport  sailed  up  and  discharged  its 
burden  of  splendidly  equipped  soldiers  and  elaborate 
paraphernalia  of  war.  What  a  colorful  picture  it  all 
made!  One  crack  regiment  after  another  debark- 
ing and  forming  ashore — this  one  all  in  white,  that 


138  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

in  white  and  green,  the  next  in  blue  and  red ;  these 
in  jaunty  cocked  hats,  those  in  high  grenadier  caps 
with  waving  colored  plumes;  and  every  man  spick 
and  span  and  with  his  hair  done  up  in  a  pigtail. 

When  the  transports  were  empty  a  French  army 
of  six  thousand  men  was  encamped  near  the  town. 
It  had  been  intended  in  France  that  the  force  should 
be  larger  but  at  the  last  moment  there  was  a  short- 
age of  transports  and  many  of  the  assembled  troops 
had  to  be  left  to  form  a  second  division,  which  was 
to  follow  as  soon  as  possible.  Rochambeau  wrote 
at  once  to  Washington,  formally  announcing  his 
arrival.  He  expressed  veneration  for  the  American 
commander  and  zeal  for  the  cause,  and  said  in  con- 
clusion, "We  are  now,  sir,  under  your  command." 

The  French  at  once  began  to  fortify  their  posi- 
tion. There  was  more  need  for  prompt  fortification 
than  any  one  supposed.  The  British  fleet  at  New 
York  was  just  at  this  time  reinforced,  and  at  once 
sailed  for  Newport.  In  a  few  days  the  French, 
who  had  arrived  so  full  of  zeal  to  attack  the  enemy, 
were  placed  wholly  on  the  defensive.  Their  ships 
were  bottled  up  in  Newport  Harbor  by  the  superior 
British  fleet  cruising  outside,  while  word  came  that 
Qinton  was  on  his  way  from  New  York  with  a  large 
land  force. 

The  French  worked  hard  upon  their  defenses; 
but  at  the  same  time,  while  waiting  for  the  English 
to  try  to  capture  Newport,  they  went  on  capturing 


MORE  HELP  FROM  FRANCE       139 

it  themselves.  So  admirable  was  the  conduct  of 
the  troops,  so  charming  the  appearance  and  the 
manners  of  their  officers,  that  gladly  the  whole  town 
surrendered.  Do  we  ever  quite  appreciate  the 
unique  social  situation  that  attended  the  coming  of 
France  to  help  us  in  our  fight  for  liberty?  Into 
that  rather  sedate  unsophisticated  American  society 
was  suddenly  thrown  a  group  of  the  gayest,  most 
polished  Europeans,  a  dashing  band  of  young 
nobles  from  the  very  inner  circle  of  the  brilliant 
court  of  Marie  Antoinette.  It  is  not  surprising 
that  the  provincial  little  democratic  town  of  1780 
was  set  agog. 

And  how  well  that  sudden  contact  of  American 
simplicity  and  European  elegance  was  managed! 
The  credit  goes  to  the  French.  Quartered  among 
families  of  the  town,  those  cultured,  pampered 
nobles  of  France,  with  their  elegant  trappings  and 
their  Parisian  valets,  readily  adapted  themselves  to 
the  ways  of  the  little  American  seaport.  Heartily, 
gaily,  they  entered  into  the  life  of  the  place.  Or 
rather,  they  made  it.  Young  counts  and  marquises 
and  barons  and  dukes  not  only  entered  American 
parlors  as  though  they  were  the  white-and-gold 
drawing-rooms  of  France,  and  drank  tea  with 
American  girls  as  though  they  liked  it,  but  a  little 
later  they  held  forth  in  elaborate  functions  of  their 
own,  where  the  good  Newportians  were  shown  all 
the  courtesies  of  the  Paris  salon. 


140  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

When  balls  were  given  by  the  Comte  de  Rocham- 
beau  or  by  the  Due  de  Lauzun  or  by  the  officers  of 
the  Royal  du  Fonts,  what  a  suffocating  flutter  in 
fair  bosoms  as  French  bands  "played  like  enchant- 
ment," as  French  nobles  paid  charming  court,  and 
every  colonial  maiden  was  a  princess!  Now  those 
colonial  maidens  were  not  used  to  being  princesses, 
and  there  were  delicious,  agonizing  hours  of  prep- 
aration for  the  part.  Old  finery  was  gotten  out, 
and  feverish  efforts  made  to  get  a  season  or  two 
nearer  the  prevailing  French  modes.  And  after  all, 
Polly  Leighton,  a  demure  little  Quakeress  who 
did  n't  even  put  a  coquettish  bow  in  her  bonnet 
strings,  carried  off  the  honors. 

The  July  days  went  by — hurried  work  upon  the 
defenses;  anxious  looks  seaward  at  blockading 
British  ships;  express  riders  foaming  in  with  news 
of  Clinton's  movements;  and,  along  with  all,  music 
and  gaiety.  It  was  into  that  sort  of  Newport  that 
there  came  riding  one  evening  toward  the  end  of 
the  month  the  Marquis  de  Lafayette.  It  was  a 
proud  moment  for  him.  Here  was  a  great  military 
expedition  that  his  efforts  had  obtained  from  the 
French  king;  and  to  it  he  was  now  coming  as  the 
sole  representative  of  the  American  commander-in- 
chief .  This  youth  bore  authority  from  Washington 
to  make  all  arrangements  for  the  joint  operation  of 
the  French  and  American  forces.  "All  the  in- 
formation he  gives,"  wrote  Washington  to  Rocham- 


MORE  HELP  FROM  FRANCE       141 

beau,  "and  all  the  propositions  he  makes,  I  entreat 
you  to  consider  as  coming  from  me." 

But  Lafayette  found  the  French  commanders  in 
no  position  to  consider  plans  for  aggressive  action. 
They  were  too  busy  with  the  matter  of  their  own 
salvation.  So  the  marquis  had  to  postpone  the  sub- 
ject of  his  visit  and  to  join  in  the  efforts  for  de- 
fense against  the  British.  He  had  to  join  in  the 
social  functions  too,  and  Newport  family  traditions 
are  rather  rich  in  ancestresses  who  danced  with  La- 
fayette. 

His  was  a  strange  position  there  with  his  own 
countrymen.  His  meteoric  career  excited  perhaps 
admiration,  certainly  some  other  feelings  in  the 
officers  of  the  expedition.  Probably  younger  than 
any  of  them,  he  occupied  so  important  a  position 
that  some  feared  being  placed  under  command  of 
the  stripling,  and  had  taken  a  vow  not  to  submit  to 
it.  However,  military  friction  aside,  Lafayette 
was  among  friends,  and  even  relatives.  Rocham- 
beau  himself  was  a  distant  kinsman. 

The  general  spirit  of  the  French  toward  the  cause 
was  all  the  marquis  could  have  wished.  The  young 
officers  were  full  of  enthusiasm  in  the  glorious  ad- 
venture, burning  to  unsheathe  their  swords  for 
American  liberty.  And  even  Lafayette  must  have 
been  surprised  at  their  intense  eagerness  to  behold 
the  great  Washington. 

One  day  about  the  first  of  August  came  an  ex- 


142  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

press  rider  bearing  word  from  him,  anyway.  The 
commander-in-chief  regretted  that  he  could  not  send 
any  detachment  from  his  own  army  to  aid  in  re- 
pelling Clinton's  expected  attack  upon  Newport; 
but  he  said  that,  with  the  idea  of  drawing  the  British 
general  back  from  that  object,  he  was  marching  his 
entire  force  directly  toward  New  York,  and  might 
even  attack  the  weakened  garrison  there.  A  few 
days  more  and  the  nervous  tension  at  Newport  was 
over.  The  British  offensive  broke  down  before 
the  combination  presented  by  the  strong  position  of 
the  French  and  the  menacing  movement  of  Wash- 
ington. But  the  English  fleet  continued  to  blockade 
the  harbor. 

At  last  Lafayette  could  take  up  with  the  French 
commanders  the  matter  that  had  brought  him  there, 
the  consideration  of  joint  operations  by  the  allies. 
Rochambeau's  headquarters,  the  old  Vernon  House 
at  the  corner  of  Clarke  and  Mary  streets,  saw  some 
earnest  and  not  always  harmonious  conferences. 
But  they  amounted  to  little.  The  sudden  blockad- 
ing of  the  French  squadron  by  the  reinforced  British 
fleet  prevented  any  present  action.  All  that  could 
be  done  was  to  plan  vaguely  for  what  might  be 
undertaken  when  the  second  division  should  arrive. 

A  hard  blow  to  Lafayette.  Was  this  French  ex- 
pedition, his  expedition,  to  go  the  way  of  its  pred- 
ecessor and  fail  the  Americans?  It  was  a  sober 
young  marquis  that  mounted  his  horse  one  day  in 


MORE  HELP  FROM  FRANCE       143 

early  August  and  started  upon  his  return  journey  to 
the  main  American  army.  He  found  the  army 
crossing  to  the  west  bank  of  the  Hudson  at  King's 
Ferry  after  its  feint  upon  New  York.  And  some- 
where in  those  pitiful  lines  of  soldiers  toiling 
along  the  hot,  dusty  way,  he  found  a  body  of  light 
infantry  that  Washington  had  formed  in  his  absence 
and  of  which  he  was  now  to  have  command.  La- 
fayette was  prouder  of  these  ragged  troops  than  he 
had  been  of  his  superbly  uniformed  King's 
Dragoons. 

Hounded  by  famine,  the  army  struggled  south- 
ward along  the  Hudson.  Soon  they  were  in  an 
almost  mockingly  beautiful  land,  that  reach  of 
smiling  valleys  just  back  of  the  Palisades.  Some- 
times their  way  was  through  Sleepy-Hollow-like 
peace  and  plenty.  But  even  where  plenty  was,  it 
was  not  for  the  patriot  soldiers.  While  the  rural 
sections  of  America  were  generally  far  more  loyal 
to  the  cause  of  liberty  than  were  the  cities,  yet  here 
was  a  country-side  steeped  in  Toryism.  The  bare 
necessities  of  the  troops  were  met  only  by  forages 
at  the  point  of  the  bayonet. 

Yet  all  along  Washington's  hope  fed  upon  visions 
of  great  things  to  be  accomplished  when  the  second 
French  division  should  come — that  is,  until  that  hot 
day  at  the  end  of  August  when  an  unwelcome  mes- 
senger came  riding  up  to  headquarters.  It  is  said 
that  Washington  almost  lost  his  marvelous  com- 


144  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

posure  that  day  as  he  read  the  message  brought. 
There  was  to  be  no  second  division.  The  expected 
additional  French  fleet  could  not  even  leave  France, 
it  was  blockaded  by  the  British  in  its  own  harbor  at 
Brest. 

The  first  blow  of  disappointment  weathered, 
Washington  turned  wearily  to  face  the  situation. 
That  was  the  end  of  all  hope  for  a  Northern  cam- 
paign in  1780.  But  a  brave  front  must  still  be 
kept  up,  and  the  fight  against  starvation  must  go 
on.  Dejectedly  the  army  went  into  camp  there  in 
the  extreme  northeastern  corner  of  New  Jersey, 
close  by  the  all-important  Hudson. 

On  a  dismal  rainy  day  at  the  opening  of 
September,  Washington,  riding  out  in  the  open 
country,  stopped  at  a  long,  low,  stone  house  a  little 
back  from  the  river,  and  took  up  his  headquarters 
there.  It  was  a  usual  enough  house  of  the  better 
sort,  with  nothing  to  indicate  the  part  that  it,  or  its 
owner,  was  playing  in  the  cause  of  liberty.  But 
had  the  Tories  of  the  neighborhood  known  what 
Washington  knew  the  building  would  probably  not 
have  been  left  standing.  Here  lived  Andrew  Hop- 
per, well  known  as  a  prominent  patriot,  but  not 
known  as  what  he  really  was,  one  of  Washington's 
most  trusted  spies. 

The  work  of  such  a  man  in  the  American  Revo- 
lution was  of  particular  importance.  It  was  a  war 
of  spies.  And  yet,  from  the  nature  of  things,  com- 


MORE  HELP  FROM  FRANCE       145 

paratively  few  of  them  could  be  trusted.  The  most 
efficient  work  had  to  be  done  by  double  dealing, 
blinding  the  enemy  by  giving  information  as  well 
as  getting  it.  There  was  always  the  danger  that 
even  the  most  loyal  spy  would  mistakenly  give  more 
than  he  would  get ;  and  there  was  the  even  greater 
danger  that  his  loyalty  would  fail  in  this  double 
dealing  and  that  he  would  go  over  to  the  enemy. 
Washington  kept  personal  control  of  a  spy  system 
of  his  own,  and  showed  ability  in  choosing  men  and 
in  planning  their  operations. 

That  dismal  rainy  September  day  in  which  Wash- 
ington took  up  his  headquarters  at  the  Hopper  house 
was  suggestive  of  the  experience  he  was  to  have 
there.  The  distress  of  the  army  continued;  militia 
arriving  had  to  be  turned  back  and  disbanded  for 
lack  of  food;  Clinton  was  threatening  immediate 
attack ;  and  in  the  midst  of  all  came  news  of  serious 
disaster  in  the  South. 

For  a  while  after  Clinton  had  captured  Charles- 
ton, and  had  sailed  away  leaving  Cornwallis  to 
complete  the  conquest  of  the  Southern  colonies,  all 
had  gone  well  for  the  British.  There  had  been 
virtually  no  American  army  left  in  the  South,  and 
it  had  looked  as  though  all  that  region  was  to  be 
quickly  subdued.  But  gradually  the  patriots  had 
renewed  the  struggle  in  the  only  way  they  could,  by 
waging  desultory  warfare  from  the  fastnesses  of 
forests  and  swamps.  Under  such  leaders  as  Marion 


146  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

and  Sumter  they  had  kept  the  cause  of  liberty  alive, 
and  after  a  while  a  new  American  army  had  been 
organized  in  the  Southern  field  to  oppose  the  vic- 
torious Cornwallis.  Congress,  without  consulting 
Washington,  had  given  command  of  this  army  to 
Gates,  the  general  who  had  obtained  so  much  un- 
deserved credit  for  the  capture  of  Burgoyne. 

Now,  by  the  time  Washington  was  established  at 
the  Hopper  house,  about  the  only  encouraging  fea- 
ture of  the  situation  was  the  favorable  word 
from  the  South,  indicating  that  Gates  was  in  a  fair 
way  to  wrest  that  portion  of  the  country  from  the 
grip  of  Cornwallis.  Perhaps  the  commander-in- 
chief  had  this  one  pleasant  prospect  in  mind  as  he 
wakened  one  morning  in  his  quaint,  low-pitched 
room  and  looked  out  between  the  parted  chintz 
curtains  of  his  bed.  The  rain  had  gone  and  it  was 
a  beautiful  morning.  The  room  was  furnished  in 
old  darkened  walnut  richly  carved.  A  Dutch  Bible 
mounted  in  silver  lay  on  the  table  with  antique  bits 
of  pottery,  while  pictured  family  forebears  looked 
down  from  the  walls  upon  the  famous  guest.  But 
the  beautiful  day  was  to  be  a  bad  day  for  Wash- 
ington. 

Some  time  in  the  afternoon  news  reached  head- 
quarters stripping  the  commander-in-chief  of  his 
one  favorable  war  prospect.  Gates,  the  vainglorious 
general  who  had  been  about  to  save  the  South,  had 
bungled  into  battle  with  Cornwallis  to  his  own 


MORE  HELP  FROM  FRANCE       147 

undoing.  The  two  opposing  generals  had  started 
out  on  the  same  August  night,  near  Camden,  each 
to  surprise  the  other.  The  result  had  been  the  most 
crushing  defeat  ever  inflicted  upon  an  American 
army.  Gates's  forces  had  been  virtually  annihilated. 
Perhaps  there  never  was  a  darker  time  for  Wash- 
ington than  that  September  5,  1780,  there  at  the 
Hopper  house,  in  his  hand  the  fatal  message  from 
the  South.  It  was  not  that  a  battle  had  been  lost, 
but  an  opportunity,  perhaps  the  last.  Just  as  the 
blockading  of  the  second  French  division  had 
thwarted  his  desperate  attempts  to  make  some  head- 
way that  year  in  the  North,  so  now  this  over- 
whelming defeat  of  Gates  blighted  all  hope  of  even 
holding  his  own  in  the  South.  The  Southern 
colonies  lay  open  to  complete  subjugation. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

FRANCE  AND  AMERICA   TALK   IT  OVER 

IN  that  autumn  of  1780  Washington  resolved 
upon  a  conference  with  Rochambeau  and  Ternay 
to  determine  what  might  possibly  be  arranged  as  to 
future  joint  operations.  The  place  of  meeting 
agreed  upon  was  Hartford,  Connecticut,  about  half- 
way between  the  two  headquarters.  In  preparation 
for  this  journey  the  chief  placed  Greene  in  com- 
mand of  the  army. 

It  was  an  impressive  little  company  ready  to  set 
out  that  Monday  morning,  September  18,  for  Hart- 
ford. Besides  Washington  on  his  big,  fine  mount, 
there  were  Lafayette  and  Knox  and  half  a  dozen 
aides  including  young  Alexander  Hamilton.  They 
were  a  handsome  body  of  officers;  for  this  confer- 
ence the  United  States  was  putting  her  best  foot 
foremost.  And  yet  something  was  wrong.  The 
Commander-in-Chief  of  the  American  armies  could 
not  get  together  money  enough  to  make  the  proposed 
journey  decently!  The  military  chest  was  empty. 
Even  Lafayette,  who  was  usually  depended  upon  to 
help  liberty  out  of  such  troubles,  had  in  his  many 
mad  generosities  about  exhausted  his  available  re- 

148 


FRANCE  AND  AMERICA  149 

sources.  After  each  officer  had  contributed  all  he 
had  or  could  borrow  (mostly  in  paper  money)  they 
all  set  forth,  trusting  to  good  fortune  that  their 
meager  means  would  carry  them  through. 

After  all,  money  or  no  money,  this  journey  was 
a  good  deal  of  a  pleasure  outing  for  the  routine- 
worn,  camp-weary  Washington.  Out  in  the  open 
now,  a  good  horse  under  him,  favorite  officers 
galloping  at  his  side,  he  set  a  good  round  pace  along 
the  road  that  stretched  alluring  in  the  September 
sunshine.  Their  way  was  up  along  the  Hudson.  It 
was  toward  evening  when  they  reached  Stony  Point 
and  came  out  upon  the  river  bank  at  the  landing  of 
King's  Ferry  to  cross  the  stream. 

And  there,  all  unknowingly,  they  stood  upon  the 
verge  of  a  disgraceful  chapter  in  the  story  of  our 
country,  and  even  met  and  greeted  the  man  who  was 
to  make  it  so.  The  man  was  apparently  waiting  for 
them.  He  was  a  well-built,  strong- featured  Ameri- 
can officer,  and  his  name  up  to  that  time  was  an 
honored  one — Major-General  Benedict  Arnold. 
The  commander-in-chief  thought  highly  of  that 
hero  of  many  battle-fields,  now  limping  about  from 
the  effects  of  two  wounds  received  in  fighting  for  his 
country. 

Upon  earnest  solicitation  Arnold  lately  had  ob- 
tained from  Washington  the  command  of  West 
Point  and  of  the  auxiliary  posts  along  the  Hudson, 
— in  other  words,  of  the  most  important  and  vital 


150  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

defenses  of  American  liberty.  And  to  no  one  would 
they  have  been  entrusted  with  greater  confidence. 
But  it  was  confidence  sadly  misplaced.  Already  he 
was  deep  in  a  plot  to  betray  the  Gibraltar  of  the 
patriots  into  the  hands  of  the  British.  He  had 
come  down  the  river  from  West  Point  to  the  ferry 
that  day  in  his  six-oared  barge,  and  had  actually 
received  a  communication  from  the  enemy  but  a 
little  while  before  the  arrival  of  Washington. 

Now  the  chief  and  his  party  of  officers  joined 
Arnold  in  his  barge  to  cross  the  Hudson.  They 
made  a  picturesque  group  in  their  blue  and  buff  and 
gold  as  the  strokes  of  the  oarsmen  carried  them  out 
into  the  mellow  glow  of  the  river's  twilight. 
Arnold's  nerves  were  good  ones,  that  there  in  the 
presence  of  the  commander  he  was  about  to  betray, 
he  maintained  a  bold  air  of  composure. 

But  once  that  failed  him.  They  had  got  out  to 
where  their  view  commanded  a  long  reach  of  the 
river  to  the  southward.  Washington  looked  and 
brought  his  spy-glass  to  his  eye.  Arnold  (though 
nobody  thought  anything  of  it  at  the  time)  visibly 
started.  What  the  commander-in-chief  saw  was 
a  war-ship  lying  far  down  the  stream  near  the 
eastern  shore.  He  turned  and  made  some  remark 
to  the  officer  near  him  in  a  tone  too  low  to  reach 
the  eagerly  strained  ears  of  Arnold.  The  traitor's 
trepidation  increased.  Doubtless  for  a  moment  he 
thought  his  plot  discovered.  For  that  vessel  was 


FRANCE  AND  AMERICA  151 

the  British  sloop  of  war  Vulture,  and  through  it 
Arnold  had  been  communicating  with  the  enemy. 
But  his  fears  were  groundless.  Washington  had 
not  a  suspicion,  and  he  was  as  far  from  guessing 
the  errand  of  the  dim  distant  ship  as  though  she 
had  been  a  phantom  sail  on  that  river  of  nautical 
ghosts. 

When  the  barge  reached  the  other  side  of  the 
stream  at  Verplanck's  Point,  the  party,  including 
Arnold,  traveled  a  few  miles  to  the  village  of 
Peekskill,  where  they  all  remained  that  night.  Next 
morning  Washington  and  his  company,  still  un- 
suspicious, went  upon  their  way,  while  Arnold 
turned  back  to  complete  the  selling  of  his  country 
to  the  enemy  for  the  best  price  he  could  get,  before 
the  commander-in-chief  should  return. 

It  was  a  good-sized  troop  with  which  Washington 
rode  out  into  the  sunrise  of  that  September  morning, 
for  at  Peekskill  he  had  added  a  mounted  guard  of 
fifty  men.  Nor  was  this  for  display.  There  were 
dangerous  portions  of  the  country  ahead.  And  yet 
for  the  most  part  what  honor  and  devotion  he  was 
to  receive  all  along  the  way!  It  is  easy  for  us  to 
forget  how  very  little  the  people  really  saw  of 
George  Washington.  He  was  a  man  never  on 
parade,  who  seldom  took  a  holiday.  No  wonder 
that  the  people,  who  loved  and  trusted  him  as  they 
did  no  other  man,  crowded  into  the  towns  through 
which  he  was  to  pass.  And  he  in  his  modesty  was 


152  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

always  surprised  and  deeply  affected  by  the  recep- 
tion accorded  him. 

For  the  next  two  or  three  days  the  commander- 
in-chief  and  his  officers  reveled  in  the  free  life  of 
the  highway.  Out  in  the  sunshine,  with  glow  of 
color  and  glint  of  weapons,  they  went  clattering 
over  the  hills.  But  that  meant  many  stops  at  way- 
side inns  where  stalwart  riders  and  sweating  steeds 
had  sharp-set  appetites.  The  almost  worthless 
paper  money  was  going  fast.  But  the  unexpected 
was  to  happen.  One  day,  upon  leaving  an  inn, 
thinking  rather  ruefully  of  the  score  to  be  paid, 
they  were  surprised  to  be  told  that  they  owed  noth- 
ing. They  had  just  crossed  the  boundary  line  into 
Connecticut,  and  that  State  had  assumed  obligation 
for  all  their  expenses  while  they  were  within  its 
borders. 

In  the  circumstances  that  was  a  more  comfortable 
basis  to  journey  on.  At  length  the  company  came 
out  upon  a  height  overlooking  a  considerable  river, 
and  below,  along  the  stream,  lay  the  town  of  their 
destination,  Hartford.  The  capital  of  Connecticut 
was  an  odd-looking  place  in  those  days,  more  an 
overgrown,  sprawling  village  than  anything  else. 
Everything  was  called  Hartford  for  leagues 
around. 

As  Washington  and  his  party  rode  down  into 
the  town,  they  were  met  by  mounted  guards  of 
honor,  and  cannon  boomed  a  welcome.  The  town 


FRANCE  AND  AMERICA  153 

was  crowded  with  a  multitude  of  people.  The 
distinguished  military  visitors  were  received  by 
Governor  Trumbull  and  other  notables  and  con- 
ducted through  cheering  crowds  to  the  home  of 
Colonel  Wadsworth  standing  back  in  its  spacious 
gardens  on  Main  Street. 

Soon  there  was  the  booming  of  cannon  again, 
announcing  the  arrival  of  the  French  commanders. 
Down  at  the  City  Landing  they  were  formally 
received  as  they  disembarked  from  the  ferry.  The 
party  consisted  of  Rochambeau,  Ternay,  and  two 
or  three  subordinate  officers.  For  the  French,  too, 
there  was  the  most  enthusiastic  popular  welcome  as 
they  were  conducted  up  from  the  landing  to  the 
square  in  front  of  the  Capitol,  where  Washington 
and  his  generals  now  awaited  them. 

It  was  one  of  the  big  moments  in  our  story  of 
liberty,  that  meeting  and  greeting  of  the  great 
commanders  of  France  and  of  America.  It  was 
the  alliance  made  visible.  In  the  midst  of  a  showy 
setting  of  officers  and  aides  and  gaily  uniformed 
guardsmen  was  that  trio  of  leaders  upon  whom  all 
eyes  were  bent.  There  were  Rochambeau  and 
Ternay,  neither  one  an  impressive  man  physically, 
but  both  of  noble  bearing,  richly  uniformed  and 
sparkling  with  jeweled  insignia.  There  was  Wash- 
ington, less  brilliantly  though  elegantly  dressed  in 
buff  and  white  and  blue,  and  superb  in  his  towering 
majesty. 


154  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

As  the  three  exchanged  courtesies,  what  a 
triumphal  moment  for  Lafayette!  This  was  his 
doing.  To  him  was  owing  the  fact  that  those  two 
high  officers  of  his  king  were  standing  upon 
American  soil  pledging  to  Washington  the  support 
of  the  army  and  the  navy  of  France.  And  yet  that 
thought  was  not  swelling  the  chest  of  the  young 
marquis  half  so  much  as  another  one.  How,  ever 
since  he  ran  away  to  America  to  fight  for  liberty, 
he  had  been  singing  to  his  countrymen  the  praises 
of  the  magnificent  hero  he  had  found  over  there 
leading  the  desperate  cause!  Perhaps  they  were 
skeptical.  Now  they  should  see,  now  they  were 
seeing!  And  in  their  eyes  he  could  read  the  vindi- 
cation of  his  own  judgment. 

The  formal  presentation  over,  the  French  and 
the  American  generals  were  conducted  to  the  home 
of  Colonel  Wadsworth,  where  they  remained  during 
their  stay  in  Hartford.  That  was  only  two  or  three 
days,  and  would  have  been  less  had  Washington  for 
a  moment  suspected  what  was  going  on,  in  his 
absence,  along  the  Hudson.  Ignorant  of  that,  he 
threw  all  his  energies  into  this  conference  with  the 
French  commanders,  still  hopeful  that  some  way 
might  be  found  to  strike  an  effective  blow  against 
the  British.  As  he  did  not  know  French  and 
Rochambeau  and  Ternay  did  not  know  English, 
Lafayette  acted  as  interpreter.  But  there  was  not 
much  to  interpret.  It  soon  appeared  that  no  present 


FRANCE  AND  AMERICA  155 

undertaking  could  be  determined  upon.  About  all 
that  could  be  done  was  to  send  a  joint  communica- 
tion to  the  French  king  asking  for  more  ships  and 
more  troops. 

On  the  night  of  Thursday,  September  21,  the 
conference  ended.  While  Washington  was  to  re- 
main in  Hartford  another  day,  the  French  com- 
manders were  to  take  their  departure  in  the  morn- 
ing. The  final  gathering  of  the  leaders  that  night 
at  Colonel  Wadsworth's  lavishly  hospitable  mansion 
was  a  memorable  event.  But  a  much  more  memor- 
able one  was  occurring  that  same  night  back  on  the 
Hudson  River. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

A  NIGHT  OF  TREASON 

IT  was  about  midnight,  still  and  starlight.  The 
Hudson,  widening  below  King's  Ferry,  was 
flowing  smoothly  on  the  last  of  the  ebb  tide.  Out 
from  the  shadows  of  a  wooded  point  on  the  western 
bank  moved  a  little  rowboat  containing  three  men. 
It  moved  almost  noiselessly,  the  oars  being  muffled 
with  pieces  of  sheepskin.  The  course  laid  was 
toward  the  British  war-ship  Vulture,  still  anchored 
a  little  below  and  on  the  other  side  of  the  river. 
While  two  of  the  men  rowed  steadily,  the  third  sat 
in  the  stern  of  the  boat,  ill  at  ease.  He  was  a  rather 
prominent  man  of  those  parts,  Joshua  Smith,  a 
lawyer  and  apparently  a  wholly  unprincipled  one. 
Whether  or  not  he  fully  understood  the  foul  errand 
he  was  on  that  night  for  Arnold,  does  not  much 
matter. 

The  ebbing  tide  favored  the  little  craft  and  before 
long  the  spars  of  the  Vulture  showed  shadowy 
against  the  starlit  sky.  There  came  quick  challenge, 
and  the  boat  was  ordered  alongside.  That  was  just 
what  was  wanted,  and  Smith  climbed  aboard  the 
British  vessel.  A  short  while  and  he  was  back, 

156 


A  NIGHT  OF  TREASON  157 

slipping  down  the  side  to  the  little  boat.  Close 
following  him  came  a  slender,  graceful  youth 
wrapped  in  a  long  blue  watch-cloak  concealing  the 
scarlet  and  gilt  of  a  British  uniform.  From  the 
ship's  deck  above  leaned  dark,  anxious  figures 
watching  the  young  man  and  speaking  guarded  last 
words.  Then  the  rowboat  headed  noiselessly  back 
for  the  western  shore. 

The  closely  cloaked  young  man  was  one  of 
Clinton's  favorite  officers,  Major  John  Andre, 
Adjutant-General  of  the  British  army.  He  and 
Smith  spoke  little  and  guardedly.  At  length  the 
boat  shoved  softly  upon  the  beach  a  little  below  the 
point  from  which  it  had  started.  Smith  and  Andre 
got  out  and  went  up  into  the  blackness  of  the 
wooded  shore.  And  there  they  found,  skulkingly 
waiting  in  a  thicket,  Major-General  Benedict 
Arnold.  Smith  left  the  two  officers  together  and 
made  his  way  through  the  darkness  back  to  the 
boat. 

Hour  after  hour  passed.  The  stars  looked  down 
upon  a  peaceful  river  scene,  only  an  innocent  little 
rowboat  lying  at  the  bank.  No  sight  or  sound  to 
tell  that  up  there  in  the  blackness  of  a  thicket  Ameri- 
can liberty  was  being  sold.  At  length  Smith  grew 
uneasy.  Treason  was  outlasting  the  darkness  to 
cover  it.  He  groped  his  way  up  the  bank  and  again 
whispered  a  warning  of  the  nearness  of  day.  Two 
dim  figures  emerged  from  the  thicket.  Now,  either 


158  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

because  the  boatman  would  not  risk  taking  Andre 
back  to  the  ship  that  night,  or  because  the  nefarious 
bargain  was  not  yet  concluded,  the  plotters  decided 
to  go  to  Smith's  house  for  concealment  against  the 
coming  day. 

On  the  way  they  passed  through  a  village,  and 
suddenly  a  sentry's  challenge  rang  sharp,  answered 
by  Arnold.  Andre  started  in  alarm ;  it  was  the  first 
intimation  he  had  that  they  were  to  pass  within  the 
American  lines.  With  no  little  uneasiness  he  fol- 
lowed Arnold  until  they  came  to  a  stone  house 
on  the  crest  of  a  ridge.  They  entered  just  as  the 
day  was  breaking.  In  the  dim  dawn  might  be 
seen  what  sort  of  man  Qinton  had  sent  to  treat  with 
Arnold.  A  young  fellow,  slender,  handsome,  grace- 
ful, still  in  his  twenties.  He  was  to  prove  a  most 
accomplished  youth  in  the  lighter  graces,  but 
scarcely  the  man  for  this  work.  Hardly  were  the 
conspirators  safe  within  the  house  when  the  sound 
of  firing  on  the  Hudson  alarmed  them.  Andre 
hastened  to  a  window  commanding  a  view  of  the 
river.  There  he  saw  the  Vulture,  which  was  to 
await  him,  being  driven  from  her  position  by  the 
cannonading  of  Americans  on  shore,  and  slowly 
passing  down  the  stream.  It  was  an  anxious  young 
British  officer  who  now  turned  to  further  discussion 
with  Arnold. 

About  the  middle  of  the  forenoon  the  evil  busi- 
ness came  to  an  end.  All  arrangements  were  com- 


A  NIGHT  OF  TREASON  159 

plete  for  the  English  to  attack  West  Point,  and  for 
Arnold  to  surrender  it.  And  for  his  treachery  he 
was  to  receive  a  large  sum  of  money  and  high  rank 
in  the  British  army.  He  delivered  to  Andre  sev- 
eral papers  in  his  own  handwriting,  apparently  an 
unnecessary  step  that  might  incriminate  them  both. 
Then,  after  furnishing  passes  and  giving  Andre  to 
understand  that  he  would  be  rowed  back  to  the 
Vulture  that  night,  the  traitor  left  the  house  and 
started  for  his  own  headquarters. 

All  day  Andre  remained  at  Smith's  house.  After 
some  hours  the  wearing  suspense  was  lessened  by 
his  seeing  the  Vulture  sailing  back  up  the  river  and 
taking  position  not  far  from  her  old  anchorage. 
Anxiously  he  awaited  the  coming  of  night  when 
he  should  be  rowed  out  to  her.  But  Smith  had  no 
idea  of  carrying  out  that  part  of  the  arrangement. 
Objections  and  excuses  began,  and  in  the  end  Andre 
was  forced  to  attempt  returning  by  land  to  the 
British  lines.  That  was  a  much  more  serious  and 
dangerous  undertaking. 

Toward  evening  the  two  men  set  out,  Andre  now 
necessarily  in  disguise  and  with  the  papers  from 
Arnold  concealed  in  his  boots.  It  was  a  fatal  step. 
Up  to  this  time,  in  his  own  uniform  and  without 
papers,  his  capture  might  have  meant  but  detention 
as  a  prisoner  of  war;  now,  in  disguise  and  with  the 
incriminating  papers,  it  would  mean  death  as  a  spy. 
But  he  had  no  choice. 


i6o  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

The  two  men  were  well  mounted,  Andre  on  a 
big  brown  horse,  and  hoping  something  perhaps 
from  its  conspicuous  brand,  "U.S.A."  By  a  wind- 
ing, hilly,  and  picturesque  road  they  traveled  up 
the  Hudson  to  King's  Ferry,  arriving  there  at 
twilight.  The  boat  was  just  starting.  When  they 
reached  the  eastern  bank  of  the  river  they  set  off 
hopefully  toward  the  outposts  of  the  British  above 
New  York.  Their  way  was  now  through  a  lonely 
country.  The  autumn  night  came  fast  in  the  hills, 
and  darkness  closed  about  them  full  of  lurking 
perils  to  the  distraught  mind  of  the  young  English 
officer  forced  into  the  character  of  a  spy  within  the 
American  lines.  Smith  sought  to  draw  him  into 
conversation,  but  fruitlessly.  The  long  suspense 
was  telling  upon  this  gay  favorite  of  the  British 
headquarters  as  hour  after  hour  he  rode  in  the 
gloom,  staring  ahead  through  a  hangman's  noose. 

Sometime  in  the  night  came  the  sudden  challenge 
of  a  sentry.  They  had  stumbled  upon  an  American 
patrol.  They  produced  their  passes.  The  captain 
of  the  guard  took  them  to  his  quarters,  where  by 
the  lamplight  he  studied  them  suspiciously.  Smith, 
who  was  good  at  that  sort  of  thing,  invented  a  very 
plausible  story  as  to  their  late  travel  toward  the 
enemy's  lines.  But  the  captain  seemed  hard  to 
satisfy.  Perhaps  to  quiet  suspicion,  they  stopped 
and  spent  the  night  near  by.  Andre  went  to  bed 


A  NIGHT  OF  TREASON  161 

with  his  boots  on,  not  even  removing  his  silver 
spurs,  and  tossed  anxiously  till  morning. 

The  travelers  were  up  long  before  daylight  and, 
encountering  no  opposition,  set  hastily  forth.  It 
was  a  foggy  morning,  threatening  rain.  They  had 
not  gone  far  in  the  gloom,  and  were  just  passing  a 
small  frame  tavern,  when  again  they  were  halted  by 
a  picket  guard.  Again  Arnold's  passes  were  pro- 
duced and  carried  away  to  be  read,  and  again  was 
the  long  waiting.  Back  through  the  misty  darkness 
came  a  dim  figure  from  the  tavern.  The  passes 
were  all  right ;  they  might  proceed. 

Then  the  long  climb  of  a  stony  hill,  the  riders 
and  daybreak  reaching  the  top  about  the  same  time. 
If  Andre  welcomed  that  foggy  morning  light  after 
the  night  full  of  fears,  he  was  soon  to  long  for  the 
concealing  blackness  again.  Descending  the  hill 
into  a  little  valley,  they  were  riding  more  cheerfully 
now,  Andre  almost  buoyant,  when  he  suddenly  went 
blank.  A  horseman  was  approaching,  an  American 
officer  who  had  been  a  prisoner  in  New  York,  and 
who  had  met  Andre  there!  It  seemed  the  end  had 
come.  The  American  officer  stared  hard.  But 
Andre's  luck  still  held  and  the  parties  passed  without 
his  detection. 

A  short  ride  farther  brought  the  travelers  to  a 
fork  in  the  rising  road,  where  stood  an  old  weather- 
worn house.  They  rode  up  behind  it  and  asked  for 
breakfast.  And  there,  sitting  on  the  back  steps, 


162  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

the  Adjutant-General  of  the  British  army  ate  his 
last  meal  as  a  free  man.  At  this  point,  Smith  again 
failed  Andre.  Although  it  had  been  understood 
that  he  was  to  conduct  the  young  officer  to  the 
British  lines,  yet  here,  fifteen  miles  short  of  that, 
he  refused  to  go  farther.  Again  Andre  was 
helpless. 

Alone,  armed  with  Arnold's  pass,  the  fugitive 
pushed  on.  He  was  now  entering  the  Neutral 
Ground,  the  between-region,  not  occupied  by  either 
army,  but  harried  by  irregular  bands  more  or  less 
in  sympathy  with  one  side  or  the  other.  He  knew 
nothing  of  this  country.  The  morning  fog  thick- 
ened and  changed  to  a  fine,  drizzling  rain.  He 
became  confused.  He  would  try  one  road,  then 
turn  back  and  try  another.  He  was  forced  to  make 
inquiries,  which  was  dangerous.  People  looked 
askance  at  the  strangely  garbed,  muffled  figure  on 
the  fine  horse  with  its  handsome  saddle  and  bridle, 
and  with  its  mane  and  tail  filled  with  burrs. 

But,  by  this  route  or  that,  Andre  worked  toward 
the  British  lines,  and  by  the  middle  of  the  forenoon 
was  galloping  along  the  old  post-road  near  Tarry- 
town,  and  seeming  in  a  fair  way  to  be  back  soon 
among  his  friends.  That  was  not  to  be.  Now, 
just  ahead  the  road  crossed  a  stream  flowing 
through  a  dark  ravine.  As  the  galloping  horse 
clattered  over  the  bridge,  three  men  sprang  up  from 


A  NIGHT  OF  TREASON  163 

the  bushes  at  the  wayside,  and  a  musket  was  pre- 
sented at  the  rider's  breast. 

Andre  seems  to  have  wholly  lost  his  presence  of 
mind.  While  he  had  no  means  of  telling  to  which 
side  his  assailants  belonged,  if  he  had  promptly 
shown  Arnold's  pass  he  would  have  been  safe  in  any 
event.  If  his  captors  were  of  the  Americans,  the 
pass  would  secure  his  release;  if  they  were  of  the 
British,  he  would  need  no  release.  But,  misled  by 
appearances,  he  thought  himself  among  Royalists, 
and  imprudently  declared  that  he  was  a  British 
officer.  His  guess  was  wrong.  His  three  captors, 
little  more  than  boys,  whose  names  were  Paulding, 
Williams,  and  VanWart,  now  announced  that  they 
were  Americans.  At  that  Andre  started,  became 
more  confused,  and  produced  Arnold's  pass.  But  it 
was  too  late.  He  was  seized  and  searched,  and 
the  telltale  papers  found  in  his  boots.  "He  is  a 
spy!"  exclaimed  Paulding.  Despite  Andre's  efforts 
to  purchase  his  release,  his  captors  hurried  him  to 
the  nearest  American  post,  where  to  the  commander, 
Colonel  Jameson,  they  delivered  him  and  the  papers 
he  had  carried. 

Then  the  unaccountable  thing  happened.  Jame- 
son, with  all  the  evidence  before  his  eyes,  could  not 
or  would  not  believe  the  story  they  so  plainly  told 
of  the  treason  of  his  superior  officer,  Arnold.  And 
so,  while  he  at  once  sent  a  letter  and  the  papers 


164  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

found  on  Andre  to  Washington,  he  also  sent  a  letter 
to  Arnold  advising  him  of  the  capture.  It  was  a 
regrettable  act  of  faith  and  of  foolishness  opening 
the  way  for  the  traitor's  escape. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
SAVING  AMERICA'S  GIBRALTAR 

WHILE  the  courier  bearing  Jameson's  com- 
munication to  Washington  was  galloping 
over  the  road  toward  Hartford,  the  commander-in- 
chief  and  his  military  company  were  returning  from 
that  town  along  another  route.  On  the  morning 
of  Monday,  September  25,  they  were  riding  down 
the  east  bank  of  the  Hudson  toward  Arnold's  head- 
quarters, known  as  the  Robinson  house,  which  was 
almost  directly  across  the  river  from  West  Point. 
They  were  two  or  three  days  ahead  of  the  time 
when  they  were  expected  to  return,  and  word  had 
been  sent  on  telling  Arnold  of  their  coming  and  that 
they  would  that  morning  breakfast  with  him. 

Suddenly  Washington  turned  his  horse  from  the 
road  leading  to  the  Robinson  house  into  a  lane 
running  down  to  the  edge  of  the  river.  Lafayette, 
surprised,  reminded  him  of  their  breakfast  engage- 
ment and  that  Mrs.  Arnold  would  be  waiting  for 
them.  There  came  that  winning  smile  of  the 
commander-in-chief,  the  more  winning  for  its  infre- 
quency.  The  beautiful  Philadelphia  girl  who  had 
become  Arnold's  second  wife,  had  just  arrived  from 

165 


166  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

the  South  with  their  baby  and  joined  her  husband 
in  his  new  headquarters. 

"Ah,  I  know,"  said  Washington,  "you  young 
men  are  all  in  love  with  Mrs.  Arnold.  Go  and 
breakfast  with  her,  and  tell  her  not  to  wait  for  me. 
I  must  go  down  to  examine  the  redoubts  on  this 
side  of  the  river." 

But  even  breakfast  and  a  pretty  hostess  could  not 
lure  Lafayette  and  Knox  from  their  chief;  so  two 
aides,  Hamilton  and  McHenry,  were  sent  ahead 
with  apologies,  while  their  superior  officers  turned 
down  the  little  lane  leading  to  the  redoubts. 

A  short  gallop  brought  Hamilton  and  McHenry 
to  Arnold's  headquarters.  It  was  a  long,  rambling 
house  standing  in  a  lonely  spot,  and  certainly  a 
forlorn  home  for  the  gay  society  girl  who  had  mar- 
ried Arnold.  The  two  young  officers  joined  the 
household  in  the  breakfast-room,  with  its  quaint 
low-beamed  ceiling  and  heavy-paneled  fireplace. 
For  a  while  it  was  a  cheery  gathering  chatting  over 
the  coffee-cups.  The  pretty  young  hostess  was 
happy  to  have  agreeable  visitors  at  that  lonely 
house  in  the  Highlands.  As  for  Arnold,  he  seems 
to  have  carried  off  the  situation  well.  Black  treason 
in  his  heart,  he  gave  no  sign.  But  it  was  a  trying 
moment  for  him.  Though  he  supposed  that  Andre 
had  safely  regained  the  British  lines,  and  that  the 
arranged  attack  upon  West  Point  would  soon  be 
made,  and  though  he  had  already  weakened  the  de- 


SAVING  AMERICA'S  GIBRALTAR    167 

fenses  preparatory  to  the  surrender  that  was  to 
make  him  a  wealthy  British  officer,  yet  this  unex- 
pectedly early  return  of  Washington  might  delay 
or  defeat  the  whole  scheme. 

However,  anxiety  for  the  success  of  his  treason 
was  now  to  give  way  to  apprehension  for  his  own 
safety.  Another  horseman  was  at  the  door,  and 
in  a  moment  the  fatal  letter  from  Jameson  advising 
Arnold  of  Andre's  arrest  and  of  the  papers  found 
upon  him  having  been  sent  to  Washington,  was  in 
the  traitor's  hands.  Never  losing  his  composure, 
Arnold  rose  from  the  table,  pleading  business  that 
must  take  him  at  once  to  West  Point. 

His  wife  followed  him  upstairs  and  at  his  hur- 
ried confession  fell  senseless  to  the  floor.  There 
was  a  knock  at  the  chamber  door ;  a  messenger  had 
arrived  announcing  the  approach  of  Washington. 
With  that,  the  last  of  the  traitor's  composure  went. 
Panic-stricken,  he  wildly  ordered  a  horse  and  gal- 
loped down  to  the  river,  where  his  barge  was 
moored.  He  hurried  the  rowers  aboard,  cursing 
because  they  were  not  armed,  and  pushed  out  into 
the  stream.  Crouching  in  the  boat,  urging  his  men 
to  greater  effort,  and  nervously  cocking  and  un- 
cocking two  pistols  held  in  his  jerking  hands,  he 
desperately  strained  toward  his  only  hope,  the 
Vulture. 

But  a  short  time  after  the  traitor  fled  from  the 
Robinson  house,  Washington,  Lafayette,  and  Knox 


168  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

arrived  there.  They  were  informed  that  Arnold 
had  been  called  to  West  Point,  and  that  Mrs. 
Arnold  was  indisposed.  The  chief  presumed  that 
the  sudden  call  to  West  Point  had  to  do  with  prepa- 
ration for  his  own  reception  there,  as  he  intended 
to  visit  the  fortifications.  He  and  his  generals  took 
a  hasty  breakfast,  and  then  all  of  the  party  except 
Hamilton  set  out  to  cross  the  river.  When  their 
boat  neared  the  other  side  what  new  courage  and 
strength  came  to  Washington  as  he  gazed  upon 
those  towering  highlands  that  crowded  close  their 
peaks  and  crags  in  stern  guard  over  his  one  great 
fortress,  West  Point!  How  confidently  he  gazed 
up  there, — America's  Gibraltar,  and  a  tried  and 
trusted  fighter  for  freedom  in  command ! 

Now  soon  would  roar  forth  the  welcoming  voice 
of  the  great  fortress,  thirteen  guns  in  salutation 
to  the  commander-in-chief.  Instead,  a  puzzled  look 
came  to  the  general's  face.  Except  for  the  whistle 
of  the  Bob  White  and  the  caw  of  the  crow  from 
those  autumn-tinted  hills  the  silence  was  unbroken. 
An  officer,  full  of  apologies,  came  hastening  down 
a  rugged  path  to  the  landing.  He  had  not  known; 
the  visit  was  a  surprise.  Washington  interrupted 
him.  "Is  not  General  Arnold  here?"  "No,  sir,  he 
has  not  been  here  for  two  days."  Perplexed,  the 
chief  took  up  his  inspection  of  the  fortress.  He 
was  amazed  at  the  condition  in  which  he  found  it. 
Doubtless  a  sharp  reprimand  was  shaping  in  his 


SAVING  AMERICA'S  GIBRALTAR    169 

mind  as  he  recrossed  the  river  toward  the  Robinson 
house.  But  still  it  was  with  no  shadow  of  suspicion 
of  his  trusted  general  that  he  landed  at  Arnold's 
pier. 

Then  Hamilton  came  hurrying  up.  He  took  his 
commander  aside,  spoke  a  few  low  quick  words,  and 
placed  a  package  of  papers  in  his  hands.  After 
circuitous  travel,  Jameson's  letter  to  Washington 
with  its  accompanying  papers  taken  from  Andre 
had  at  last  caught  up  with  the  chief,  and  had  been 
delivered  at  the  Robinson  house  while  he  was  in- 
specting West  Point.  Now,  suddenly,  the  monstrous, 
startling  story  of  Arnold's  treason  stared  Washing- 
ton in  the  face ! 

The  commander-in-chief  took  the  blow  with  iron 
self-control.  To  Knox  and  Lafayette  only  did  he 
communicate  the  intelligence.  His  only  comment 
was,  "Gentlemen,  whom  can  we  trust  now?"  But 
no  time  was  lost  in  vain  regrets.  The  situation  was 
still  full  of  danger.  Though  the  treasonable  plot 
had  failed,  yet  weakened  West  Point  was  now 
vulnerable;  Arnold  with  all  his  knowledge  of  the 
fortress  was  with  the  enemy,  and  an  attack  in  force 
might  be  expected  that  very  night.  Washington's 
mind  worked  quickly,  his  orders  coming  thick  and 
fast.  Everybody  about  him  was  kept  busy,  and 
couriers  were  sent  flying  in  all  directions.  Instantly, 
upon  a  forlorn  hope,  Hamilton  had  been  despatched 
at  the  top  of  his  horse's  speed  down  to  Verplanck's 


170  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

Point,  only  to  find  himself  too  late  to  intercept  the 
traitor.  Hard  riders  swept  through  the  hills, 
ordering  in  Arnold's  scattered  detachments,  and 
calling*  upon  Greene  for  a  whole  division  of  the  main 
army. 

Strange  and  fortunate  that  just  at  this  time  the 
commander-in-chief,  who  so  rarely  through  the 
whole  Revolution  left  his  main  army,  should  happen 
to  be  at  this  very  spot ;  that,  when  for  the  one  time 
in  the  war  treason  raised  its  hideous  head,  Wash- 
ington was  there ! 

Aside  from  Lafayette  and  Knox,  no  one  knew 
the  occasion  of  the  chief's  swift  massing  of  forces. 
But  by  this  time  more  than  one  suspected.  Toward 
evening  Washington,  calm  and  collected,  joined  the 
officers  then  at  the  Robinson  house  for  dinner. 
"Come,  gentlemen,"  he  said  affably,  "since  Mrs. 
Arnold  is  indisposed  and  the  general  is  absent,  let 
us  sit  down  without  ceremony."  Looking  about  the 
table  as  we  can  picture  it  that  evening,  one  is  im- 
pressed with  the  youthfulness  of  most  of  those 
present.  This  crisis  found  the  commander  sur- 
rounded by  his  boy  officers,  as  they  might  be  called. 
Perhaps  most  were  in  their  early  twenties.  After 
dinner  Washington,  who  was  deeply  affected  by 
the  sufferings  of  Mrs.  Arnold,  went  with  two  of  the 
aides  to  visit  her.  She  was  prostrated  with  grief, 
and  at  times  on  the  verge  of  distraction.  The  gen- 
eral made  every  provision  for  her  comfort. 


SAVING  AMERICA'S  GIBRALTAR    171 

Night  dosed  down  upon  the  hills  of  the  Hudson, 
a  night  of  anxiety,  and  of  pitch  darkness,  and  of 
torrents  of  rain.  Washington's  work  was  done. 
Under  his  orders,  out  in  the  blackness  and  the  driv- 
ing storm,  keen  sentinels  were  watching  at  every 
pass ;  in  little  boats  the  water-guards  were  patrolling 
the  river;  hurrying  scattered  forces  were  still  gath- 
ering back  to  the  betrayed  fortress;  and  loyal, 
hard-fighting  Anthony  Wayne  with  the  detachment 
from  the  main  army  was  coming  in  record  march 
through  the  ink-black  defiles  of  the  mountains. 
Back  at  the  Robinson  house  the  long  hours  wore  on 
in  quiet.  Yet,  for  the  guard  standing  outside 
Washington's  door,  the  stillness  was  broken  by  a 
steady  measured  footfall  within  the  room,  ceaseless 
throughout  the  night. 

At  last  morning  broke  across  the  Hudson  to  a 
sigh  of  relief  from  the  imperiled  posts  in  the  High- 
lands. Qinton  had  not  seized  the  opportunity.  By 
another  night  West  Point  again  would  be  im- 
pregnable. 

Washington  remained  at  the  Robinson  house  but 
a  day  or  two  longer.  After  seeing  Mrs.  Arnold 
started  for  Philadelphia  in  her  carriage,  with  her 
baby  and  her  maid  and  under  proper  escort,  he 
assembled  his  own  military  company  again  and  they 
set  forth  for  the  main  army.  Crossing  the  Hudson 
at  King's  Ferry,  where,  unsuspicious,  they  had  so 
lately  crossed  with  Arnold,  they  took  their  way 


172  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

down  the  west  bank  to  a  little  Dutch  hamlet  called 
Tappan.  To  this  neighborhood,  almost  on  the 
boundary  line  between  New  York  and  New  Jersey, 
Washington  had  directed  Greene  to  move  the  army 
in  his  absence. 

Now  as  he  rode  down  out  of  the  hills,  there  before 
him  were  the  long  white  lines  of  the  tented  forces 
stretching  across  the  autumn-painted  slopes.  A 
snug  encampment,  one  would  say,  but  Washington 
knew  the  rags  and  the  distress  that  it  covered. 
His  was  a  warm  welcome.  The  ugly  story  of 
Arnold's  treason  had  reached  the  soldiers,  with  wild 
rumors  of  an  attempt  to  capture  their  loved 
leader.  Welcome  was  the  sight  of  the  tall,  gallant 
horseman  in  buff  and  blue  towering  above  his 
officers  as  he  rode  into  Tappan  that  Thursday 
evening,  September  28,  "to  the  great  Joy  of  the 
Army." 

On  the  edge  of  the  handful  of  homes  that  made 
Tappan,  there  was  a  house  standing  a  little  back 
from  the  road.  It  was  a  quaint  one-story  building 
with  the  threshold  of  its  Dutch  doorway  on  a  level 
with  the  ground.  Here  Washington  made  his  head- 
quarters. Entering,  the  commander  found  himself 
in  a  large  room  with  an  oddly  tiled  fireplace,  the 
windows  looking  out  upon  a  quiet  scene,  a  little 
creek  meandering  by.  At  once  he  appointed  a 
military  court  to  pass  judgment  upon  Andre,  whom 
he  had  ordered  here  for  trial.  It  was  about  dusk 


SAVING  AMERICA'S  GIBRALTAR    173 

of  that  same  evening  when,  under  strong  guard, 
Andre  was  brought  up  the  little  main  street  and 
safely  lodged  in  the  stone  tavern. 

How  different  was  the  treatment  he  was  receiving 
from  that  accorded  by  the  British  to  the  young 
American  captain,  Nathan  Hale,  when  he  was  cap- 
tured as  a  spy!  Every  courtesy  was  being  shown 
Andre,  and  now  he  was  to  have  fair  trial;  while 
Hale  was  loaded  with  abuse,  denied  trial,  and 
hanged  immediately. 

The  military  court  appointed  by  Washington  (of 
which  Greene,  Knox,  Lafayette,  and  Von  Steuben 
were  members)  convened  in  the  village  church. 
Before  an  impressive  bench  of  judges  stood  young 
Andre,  dressed  as  when  he  was  captured.  And 
from  the  first  moment  a  profound  pathos  shadowed 
the  whole  proceeding.  Not  that  the  judges  or  the 
prisoner  gave  way  to  sentimentality  or  to  melo- 
drama. If  military  crime  was  there,  it  was  not  to 
be  condoned  because  of  youth  or  grace  or  winning 
personality.  Yet  in  every  mind  was  the  thought 
that  at  best  a  pitifully  one-sided  justice  was  being 
done.  In  a  sense  Arnold  had  forced  Andre  into  his 
character  as  a  spy.  And  now  the  greater  offender, 
for  whom  in  every  mind  burned  indignation  and 
contempt,  had  escaped;  while  the  lesser,  who  had 
won  every  heart,  was  facing  the  penalty. 

But  sternly  the  judges  did  their  duty,  and  bravely 
the  prisoner  heard  their  sentence, — that  he  suffer 


174  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

death.  It  is  said  that  Washington  sitting  in  his 
headquarters  before  the  old  Dutch  fireplace  hesi- 
tated over  signing  the  death-warrant;  and  that  he 
had  to  master  his  trembling  pen  to  its  purpose. 
However,  if  the  chief's  hand  was  uncertain,  his 
convictions  were  not,  and  now  his  signature  put  an 
end  to  the  last  hope  for  Andre. 

Monday,  October  2,  1780;  a  golden  autumn  day. 
The  heavy  shutters  on  the  west  side  of  Washington'^ 
headquarters  are  closed,  not  against  the  flood  of 
sunshine  but  to  shut  out  the  sight  on  the  low  hill 
at  the  edge  of  the  village.  However,  hundreds, 
thousands  of  people  from  all  the  country  round  are 
crowding  about  that  hill.  Upon  its  flat  top  a 
strangely  high  gibbet  is  outlined  gruesomely  against 
the  sky.  An  army  wagon  is  drawn  up  beneath,  and 
upon  it  stands  the  slender,  graceful  figure  of  Andre. 
Except  for  sash  and  sword  and  spurs  he  is  now  in 
his  full  British  uniform  of  scarlet  and  gold.  An 
officer  stands  with  a  watch  in  his  hand,  his  sword 
raised. 

It  is  within  a  moment  of  high  noon.  Andre  is 
very  white,  but  very  straight  and  very  firm.  Some- 
thing of  the  old  smile,  that  had  won  even  his  captors, 
is  on  his  lips  as  his  own  hands  tie  the  handkerchief 
over  his  face  and  place  the  noose  about  his  neck. 
The  people  see  poorly  now,  for  their  tears.  The 
officer  looks  at  his  watch,  his  raised  signal  sword 


SAVING  AMERICA'S  GIBRALTAR    175 

drops.  A  flash  of  falling,  swinging  scarlet.  A  great 
audible  wave  of  grief  sighing  through  the  thou- 
sands. And  the  story  of  Benedict  Arnold's  treason 
is  finished. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

FIGHTING  IN  THE  CAROLINAS 

THE  days  following  Andre's  execution  were 
days  of  steady  rain,  as  though  nature  sought 
to  wash  from  the  land  the  stain  of  treason.  Soon 
search  for  food  carried  the  distressed  American 
army  on  again,  this  time  into  the  picturesque  New 
Jersey  country  along  the  Passaic  River.  There  in 
October  was  made  the  last  encampment  before 
going  into  winter  quarters.  Tradition  has  it  that 
a  general  apprehension  at  this  time  of  an  attempt 
to  capture  Washington  had  something  to  do  with 
the  selection  of  this  readily  defensible  position,  and 
of  the  general's  personal  headquarters  there.  He 
established  himself  in  the  handsome  house  of 
Colonel  Dey,  some  distance  from  the  main  army, 
but  well  located  to  prevent  surprise.  Headquarters 
looked  like  a  camp  itself,  and  a  bustling  one.  About 
the  house  were  the  tents  of  the  chief's  Life  Guards, 
numbers  of  baggage-wagons  always  ready,  and 
farther  out  the  stables  of  the  many  horses;  while 
moving  through  all  were  the  patrolling  sentries  and 
the  numerous  grooms  and  servants. 

Several  miles  away,  at  the  other  end  of  the  tented 
176 


FIGHTING  IN  THE  CAROLINAS     177 

army,  was  the  camp  of  Lafayette's  corps,  with  his 
headquarters.  By  now  this  was  the  finest  corps 
Washington  had.  And  the  mutual  admiration  be- 
tween the  soldiers  and  the  young  commander  was 
the  talk  of  the  army.  He  had  at  his  own  expense 
largely  reclothed  the  men.  They  looked  smart  and 
military,  their  crowning  glory  being  stiff  leather 
helmets  carrying  long  red  and  black  plumes.  There 
was  always  something  doing  at  Lafayette's  camp. 
And  his  little  army  showed  for  it.  Care  and  train- 
ing so  occupied  the  proud  young  commander  that 
he  scarcely  took  time  to  eat  or  to  sleep.  He  some- 
times had  his  men  out  on  parade  before  daylight. 
But,  alas,  not  one  opportunity  had  come  for  our 
fine  light  infantry  corps  to  win  distinction! 

In  those  October  days  Washington,  in  his  head- 
quarters at  the  Dey  house,  was  casting  many  an 
anxious  thought  toward  the  South,  from  which  no 
news  but  bad  news  came  to  him.  Since  that  dis- 
astrous defeat  of  Gates  by  Cornwallis  at  Camden, 
it  had  seemed  that  the  Carolinas  were  lost.  With 
virtually  no  American  force  left  in  the  field,  Corn- 
wallis had  set  boastfully  forth  to  complete  the 
subjugation  of  the  whole  South.  And,  partly  by 
overcoming  small  bands  of  patriots,  partly  by  com- 
pelling the  allegiance  of  the  people,  he  had  made 
no  small  headway. 

About  the  middle  of  the  month  Washington's 
anxiety  must,  for  a  moment  anyhow,  have  given 


178  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

way  to  amusement  upon  the  arrival  of  a  letter  from 
Congress  asking  him  to  appoint  a  general  to  take 
the  place  of  Gates  in  the  South.  A  pleasant  indica- 
tion of  chastened  spirit  in  that  body  after  its  foolish 
and  offensive  appointment  of  Gates  without  even 
consulting  the  commander-in-chief !  Washington 
showed  his  appreciation  of  the  situation  by  appoint- 
ing his  best  general,  Greene,  to  take  command  in 
the  Southern  field.  But  at  the  same  time  he  wrote 
to  Congress:  "I  think  I  am  giving  you  a  general, 
but  what  can  a  general  do  without  men,  without 
arms,  without  clothing,  without  stores,  without 
provisions  ?" 

With  Greene  on  his  way  to  supplant  Gates, 
Washington  felt  easier.  And  in  a  few  days  he  was 
further  cheered  by  a  bit  of  good  news  that  came  up 
from  the  South.  Major  Ferguson,  one  of  the  best 
partisan  commanders  under  Cornwallis,  had  come, 
in  the  congenial  work  of  subjugating  the  Carolinas, 
to  a  fine  mountain  region  along  their  dividing 
boundary  line.  That  the  region  was  all  right  is 
shown  by  its  being  sought  to-day  by  thousands  of 
tourists  for  its  health-giving  climate.  But  it  had 
proved  a  poor  health  resort  for  Ferguson  and  his 
troops.  Somehow,  in  that  portion  of  the  Carolinas 
and  the  neighboring  parts  of  Tennessee  and  Ken- 
tucky armed  patriots  had  seemed  to  rise  out  of  the 
earth.  Not  soldiers  but  picturesque  backwoodsmen 
in  rough  dress  with  fringed  hunting-shirts;  sprigs 


FIGHTING  IN  THE  CAROLINAS     179 

of  hemlock  were  in  their  hats,  knives  and  toma- 
hawks in  their  belts,  and  in  their  hands  that  long 
frontier  rifle  that  usually  spoke  but  once  to  the  same 
man. 

The  rising  sun  of  October  7  had  found  Ferguson 
and  his  eleven  hundred  men  at  bay  on  top  of  a 
considerable  eminence  called  King's  Mountain. 
There  they  had  thought  themselves  safe  from  any 
force  that  could  be  brought  against  them.  But  they 
had  not  reckoned  on  the  ways  of  the  back-woods- 
men. About  one  thousand  of  those  old  Indian- 
fighters  had  promptly  started  up  the  mountain,  not 
in  a  wild  charge  that  could  have  been  easily  met, 
but  in  open  order,  each  man  dodging  behind  tree  or 
rock,  and  keeping  up  a  cool,  deadly  firing.  Despite 
desperate  charges  by  the  British,  the  Americans  had 
crept  slowly  upward  till  they  closed  in  at  the  summit. 
Then  quickly  it  had  all  ended.  Ferguson,  shot 
through  the  heart,  had  fallen  from  his  white  horse 
as  it  plunged  down  the  mountain  side,  and  what 
were  left  of  his  men  had  surrendered. 

That  was  the  news  that  now  came  up  from  the 
South  to  General  Washington.  No  great  affair, 
and  yet  a  cheering  event,  and  destined  to  prove  one 
of  the  turning-points  of  the  Revolution.  The 
sweeping  little  victory  was  to  renew  the  courage  of 
the  Southern  patriots,  and  to  pave  the  way  for  the 
work  of  Greene. 

However,  in  the  North,  where  still  it  was  sup- 


180  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

posed  that  the  war  was  to  be  won  or  lost,  the 
campaign  was  closing  drearily  enough.  It  was  not 
merely  that,  despite  all  effort,  nothing  had  been 
accomplished;  it  was  more  the  loss  of  ability  to 
accomplish.  Not  only  were  the  distresses  of  the 
army  so  great  that  "it  was  scarcely  within  the  power 
of  description  to  give  an  adequate  idea  of  them"; 
but  the  government  behind  the  army  was  going  to 
pieces.  All  effective  unity  of  action  between  the 
States  seemed  to  have  broken  down.  Under  such 
conditions  the  campaign  of  1780  was  ending. 
Would  there  even  be  another?  The  commander- 
in-chief  looked  hopelessly  toward  the  impotent 
Congress,  pitifully  toward  his  wretched  army,  and 
doubted  it !  And  when  Washington's  mighty  faith 
wavered,  there  was  small  hope  for  American  inde- 
pendence. 

But  work  must  go  on  without  hope  sometimes. 
Now  the  next  step  is  plain  enough.  It  is  pointed 
out  by  every  nipping  blast  of  the  almost  wintry 
winds  whipping  across  the  Preakness  hills.  So,  one 
Monday  morning,  November  27,  all  is  bustle  and 
commotion  in  the  main  army  as  it  breaks  camp  for 
the  march  to  winter  quarters.  The  troops  are  to 
be  scattered  this  time  in  rather  widely  separated 
cantonments  near  the  Hudson.  Listen  to  the  drums 
and  the  fifes  as  the  men  swing  out  upon  the  march, 
crowding  and  choking  the  diverging  roadways.  At 
headquarters  is  quite  a  brilliant  gathering.  Aside 


FIGHTING  IN  THE  CAROLINAS     181 

from  the  American  officers  are  several  young  French 
nobles  from  Newport,  who  have  been  visiting  the 
camp,  and  their  showy  uniforms  add  an  air  of 
brightness  to  the  scene.  At  last  partings  are  over; 
Washington  is  on  his  way  to  New  Windsor  on  the 
Hudson  a  little  above  West  Point,  where  he  is  to 
make  his  winter  headquarters,  and  Lafayette  and 
the  young  French  officers  are  off  for  a  visit  to  Phila- 
delphia. 

The  Frenchmen  made  a  gay  little  company.  In 
spirited  rebellion  at  the  dull  closing  of  the  campaign, 
they  rode  out  of  their  way  and  exposed  themselves 
on  the  bonk  of  the  Hudson  opposite  the  New  York 
posts  in  a  vain  effort  to  draw  a  few  parting  shots 
from  the  enemy. 

Washington,  with  his  suite,  rode  on  in  his  direc- 
tion more  gravely.  Doubtless  he  was  mounted  now 
on  one  of  the  fine  horses  just  presented  to  him  by 
the  State  of  Virginia;  for  by  this  time  all  his  own 
thoroughbreds  from  Mount  Vernon  had  been  worn 
out  in  the  service.  It  was  on  December  6  that  the 
commander  finished  his  journey  up  the  Hudson, 
riding  that  wintry  evening  into  New  Windsor.  The 
little  river  town  stretched  thin  along  the  bank,  where 
the  frowning  bluffs  drew  grudgingly  back  to  make 
place  for  it.  Washington,  entering  by  the  King's 
Highway,  did  not  ride  into  the  heart  of  the  com- 
munity, where  the  tavern  flanked  the  public  square, 
now  proudly  called  Liberty  Square.  He  drew  rein 


182  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

on  a  low  hill  at  the  southern  edge  of  the  town,  in 
front  of  a  stone  house  that  was  charming  and  pic- 
turesque enough,  but  rather  small,  one  would  say, 
for  headquarters. 

Within  a  few  days,  up  from  the  South  along  the 
King's  Highway  came  another  important  traveler. 
After  a  journey  of  hundreds  of  miles  through  cold 
and  rain  and  snow,  a  coach  and  four,  with  attend- 
ants in  white  and  scarlet,  drew  up  before  headquar- 
ters doorway.  Once  more  Lady  Washington  had 
arrived  to  join  her  husband  for  the  winter  season. 
That  meeting  was  not  all  pleasure.  By  this  time 
the  eye  of  a  devoted  wife  could  perceive  evidences 
of  war  strain  in  even  the  vigorous  commander-in- 
chief.  Six  years  not  only  of  fighting  but  of  holding 
his  country  up  to  fighting,  had  left  their  mark  upon 
the  big  Virginian.  Perhaps  in  no  way  did  the  strain 
show  more  than  in  the  longing,  that  had  become 
ceaseless  and  poignant,  to  get  back  to  his  quiet 
home  life  at  Mount  Vernon. 

Failing  that,  he  found  comfort  in  the  new  home 
life  now  at  military  headquarters.  The  old  Dutch 
house,  with  its  long  sweeping  roof  and  with  the 
hooded  dormer  windows  like  half-closed  eyes  look- 
ing out  upon  the  river,  was  homey  and  comfortable. 
And  a  domestic  bit  we  catch  as  we  see  the  general 
seated,  not  upon  his  war-horse  but  in  his  wife's 
coach,  driving  with  her  about  New  Windsor  and 
among  the  officers'  quarters. 


FIGHTING  IN  THE  CAROLINAS     183 

For  the  first  time  in  five  years  Lady  Washington 
had  joined  her  husband  early  enough  in  the  winter 
to  be  with  him  for  the  Christmas  season.  She  was 
determined  that  this  time  he  should  have  something 
of  the  old  Mount  Vernon  holiday  cheer. 

So  now  the  season  finds  headquarters  decked  in 
the  beautiful  northern  greens  that  answer  very  well 
for  the  trailing  cedar  and  the  mistletoe  of  Virginia; 
and  Christmas  Day  finds  a  merry  party  gathered 
about  an  old-time  Virginia  dinner.  Young  Alex- 
ander Hamilton,  who  usually  officiates  at  table, 
being,  like  Lafayette,  absent  from  headquarters, 
Washington  presides.  At  the  other  end  of  the 
board  is  Lady  Washington,  and  ranged  between 
them  some  twenty  guests  and  members  of  the  mili- 
tary household. 

As  all  stand  about  the  table,  the  commander-m- 
chief  asks  a  blessing  very  gravely.  The  dinner 
progresses  in  true  Christmas  cheer,  with  music  by 
the  Life  Guard  band.  Washington's  negro  body- 
servant,  Billy,  his  white  woolly  head  held  high,  is 
chief  waiter,  and  with  vast  dignity.  When  fruit 
and  nuts  are  served  the  dinner  is  at  its  best,  for  the 
general  is  exceedingly  fond  of  nuts  and  does  his 
best  talking  as  he  eats  them.  With  candle-lighting 
time  come  young  folks  from  the  village  and  the 
non-commissioned  officers  of  the  Guard,  who  dance 
and  make  merry  till  the  solemn  hour  of  nine  o'clock, 


184  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

when  the  company  says  good  night  and  goes  de- 
corously home. 

In  the  opening  days  of  1781,  Washington  knew 
that,  despite  the  heartening  victory  at  King's  Moun- 
tain, the  outlook  in  the  South  was  getting  darker. 
He  knew  that  Clinton  was  materially  reinforcing 
Cornwallis,  while  Greene  was  finding  scarcely 
enough  of  Gates's  forces  left  to  reorganize.  That 
general  wrote  of  his  broken  army : 

I  am  not  without  great  apprehension  of  its  entire  dis- 
solution. .  .  .  Nothing  can  be  more  wretched  and  dis- 
tressing than  the  condition  of  the  troops,  starving  with 
cold  and  hunger ;  without  tents  and  without  camp  equipage. 
...  A  tattered  remnant  of  some  garment  clumsily  stuck 
together  with  the  thorns  of  the  locust  tree  forms  the  sole 
covering  of  hundreds. 

When  intelligence  reached  the  commander-in- 
chief  of  the  exact  location  of  the  opposing  forces 
in  the  South,  and  of  the  strategy  likely  to  develop, 
he  feared  for  Greene. 

Cornwallis  was  near  Winnsborough,  in  the  upper 
part  of  South  Carolina;  while  Greene  was  near 
Charlotte,  in  the  lower  part  of  North  Carolina. 
Greene,  in  the  face  of  his  superior  enemy,  now 
violated  a  well-known  rule  of  warfare  by  dividing 
his  little  army  into  two  forces,  and  widely  separating 
them.  From  that  moment,  as  Washington  well 
knew,  there  was  imminent  danger  that  the  two 
divisions,  unable  to  assist  each  other,  would  be 
attacked  and  destroyed  separately.  But  all  rules  are 


FIGHTING  IN  THE  CAROLINAS     185 

made  to  be  broken  now  and  then;  and,  for  many 
reasons,  Greene  was  taking  chances  advisedly. 
Events  soon  vindicated  his  act  as  one  of  the  brilliant 
strategical  movements  of  the  war. 

He  marched  both  divisions  of  his  army  boldly 
down  into  South  Carolina,  one  to  the  eastward  and 
the  other  to  the  westward  of  the  position  occupied 
by  the  British  at  Winnsborough.  So  Cornwallis 
soon  found  himself  in  an  uncomfortable  position 
between  two  American  forces,  both  insignificant  but 
difficult  to  combat.  If  he  should  move  to  attack 
either  one,  he  would  leave  the  other  in  position  to 
gain  important  advantages  and  even  to  capture  vital 
points. 

But  something  had  to  be  done,  and  the  British 
general  decided  to  strike  first  at  the  American  force 
on  his  left.  This  consisted  of  about  eight  hundred 
men  under  Brigadier-General  Morgan,  a  huge 
Welshman  who  from  a  start  as  a  mere  wagoner  had 
become  one  of  the  ablest  commanders  of  light  troops 
in  the  war.  Against  him  Cornwallis  sent  about  one 
thousand  men  under  the  intrepid  but  brutal  Tarle- 
ton,  whose  name  had  come  to  spell  terror  in  the 
South.  The  two  forces  met  on  January  17  at  a 
place  called  the  Cowpens,  almost  on  the  border  line 
between  the  two  Carolinas.  If  Greene  had  broken 
one  military  rule,  Morgan  now  broke  half  a  dozen 
in  arranging  his  troops  for  battle,  and  with  the  same 
good  results.  Among  other  things,  he  took  position 


186  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

with  a  river  just  behind  him.  To  the  objection  that 
the  stream  would  prevent  his  retreat,  he  replied  that 
that  was  just  what  he  wanted,  that  now  they  would 
have  to  win.  And  win  they  did.  Tarleton's  force 
was  nearly  annihilated  in  a  short,  fierce  engagement 
called  the  Battle  of  the  Cowpens. 

It  was  a  welcome  courier  that  brought  to  Wash- 
ington, about  the  middle  of  February,  the  news  of 
this  cheering  event.  But  even  the  splendid  little 
victory  could  not  greatly  allay  the  chief's  anxiety 
over  Greene's  outnumbered  and  divided  army.  Im- 
patiently, in  that  day  of  slow-moving  despatches,  he 
awaited  further  intelligence. 

By  this  time  there  was  another  matter  also  to 
cause  his  solicitude  as  to  the  South.  Clinton  at  New 
York,  not  content  with  reinforcing  Cornwallis  in  the 
Carolinas,  had  sent  a  strong  detachment  that  had 
landed  in  Virginia  to  raid  and  plunder  that  State. 
It  added  nothing  to  Washington's  peace  of  mind  to 
learn  that  the  expedition  was  under  the  command 
of  Benedict  Arnold,  now  a  brigadier-general  in  the 
British  army.  Indeed,  the  calm  chief  was  inwardly 
aflame  at  the  thought  of  the  arch  traitor,  arrayed 
in  British  uniform,  and  turning  upon  his  own 
countrymen. 

Washington  at  once  took  steps  to  meet  this  new 
invasion  of  the  South ;  and  not  merely  with  the  idea 
of  protecting  Virginia  but  in  a  desperate  hope  of 
capturing  Arnold.  The  only  chance  lay  in  a  com- 


FIGHTING  IN  THE  CAROLINAS     187 

bined  expedition, — a  land  force  to  attack  the 
traitor's  detachment,  and  a  naval  force  to  cut  off 
his  escape  by  sea.  The  trouble  was  that  the  French 
fleet,  which  must  be  looked  to  for  the  naval  force, 
was  still  blockaded  by  the  British  fleet  at  Newport. 
Suddenly  the  elements  conspired  to  sweep  away  that 
difficulty.  There  came  a  violent  storm,  which  so 
scattered  and  crippled  the  British  vessels  that  the 
French  were  able  to  run  the  blockade  and  sail  south- 
ward to  blockade  Arnold's  ships  in  the  waters  of 
Virginia. 

A  French  officer  in  very  brilliant  uniform  and 
with  rose-colored  plumes  in  his  helmet  seemed  a 
most  fit  messenger  to  bring  to  Washington  the  wel- 
come news  of  the  great  storm.  Promptly  the  general 
organized  a  land  force  to  cooperate  with  the  fleet, 
ill  as  he  could  afford  to  spare  the  men.  The  detach- 
ment consisted  of  twelve  hundred  light  infantry,  and 
was  at  once  started  upon  its  long  march  to  Virginia. 
The  command  was  given  to  Lafayette,  who  had  just 
arrived  at  New  Windsor  from  Philadelphia.  He 
lingered  at  headquarters  a  day  or  two  for  the  final 
preparations  and  instructions,  which  included  the 
order  that  if  Arnold  was  caught  he  should  be 
summarily  hanged. 

Now  it  is  the  twenty-second  of  February, — not  the 
honored  day  of  the  calendar,  in  that  year  1781,  that 
it  has  since  become,  but  already  a  day  of  significance 
to  Lafayette.  And  on  this  day  the  young  French 


188  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

officer  issues  from  headquarters,  draws  his  military 
cloak  against  the  stormy  weather,  mounts  his  horse, 
and  canters  off  down  the  King's  Highway  to  join 
his  troops  marching  southward.  Lafayette  is  on  his 
way  to  his  greatest  campaign  in  behalf  of  liberty  in 
America. 


CHAPTER  XX 

RETREATING  TO  VICTORY 

FROM  that  February  day  of  1781,  in  which 
Lafayette  started  on  his  expedition  against 
Arnold,  Ihe  American  Revolution  was  shaping  to 
its  close  upon  a  Southern  battle-field.  Both  the 
American  and  the  British  commanders-in-chief  had 
now  detached  heavily  to  the  South;  and  there,  or 
on  the  way  there,  were  now  the  men  who  were  to 
scheme  and  march  and  fight  until  the  opposing 
armies  should  lock  horns  ready  for  Washington's 
final  blow  at  Yorktown.  Not  that  even  the  two 
commanders-in-chief  yet  saw  all  this.  They  still 
glared  at  each  other  across  the  wintry  waste  between 
New  Windsor  and  New  York,  and  planned  each 
other's  destruction  in  great  combats  to  be  staged 
along  the  Hudson.  But  both  were  watching  intently 
the  operations  in  the  South. 

Brokenly  the  news  came  up  to  Washington  as 
to  Greene's  continued  struggle  with  Cornwallis.  It 
had  turned  out  that  despite  the  striking  success  at 
the  Cowpens  circumstances  had  compelled  both 
divisions  of  Greene's  army  to  at  once  retreat  north- 
ward; and  Washington  knew  that  they  were  in 

189 


190  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

breathless  flight  across  North  Carolina,  before  the 
pursuing  Cornwallis.  It  was  such  a  race  as  warfare 
seldom  presents — three  flying  columns,  one  of 
Greene's  on  each  hand  and  that  of  Cornwallis 
thrusting  up  between.  The  two  American  forces, 
gradually  converging,  were  desperately  striving  to 
come  together  ahead  of  the  enemy;  while  the 
British  force  was  being  driven  up  as  a  wedge  to 
prevent  this,  and  in  the  hope  of  destroying  Greene's 
two  divisions  separately. 

How  anxiously  Washington,  from  his  far-away 
quarters  in  the  Hudson  Highlands,  was  following 
that  mad  upward  race  across  North  Carolina !  How 
well  he  could  picture  it  all!  He  knew  the  country 
down  there,  and  he  knew  the  conditions.  Keenly 
he  was  visioning  the  outnumbered  Americans, — 
ragged,  hungry,  sleepless;  pressing  on  over  vast 
stretches  of  forests  and  barrens;  fording  midnight 
rivers  swollen  by  torrential  rains;  desperately  turn- 
ing now  upon  close-pressing  foe,  the  mounted  rear- 
guard wheeling  and  charging  to  gain  time  for  the 
exhausted  forces;  then  on  again  through  endless 
forest  aisles,  flaming  pine  knots  lighting  the  trails ; 
on  out  of  one  river  into  another;  the  men  wet, 
shivering,  failing;  but  ever  just  behind  them  the 
on-coming  army  of  Cornwallis!  And  what  was  to 
be  the  end  of  it  all?  Could  Greene  escape?  Was 
another  American  army,  like  that  of  Gates,  to  be 


RETREATING  TO  VICTORY         191 

annihilated?  Washington  could  only  watch  and 
hope. 

If  he  looked  to  his  other  force  in  the  South,  that 
of  Lafayette,  the  prospect  was  no  more  satisfactory. 
The  young  marquis,  in  his  expedition  against 
Arnold,  had  carried  his  troops  part  way  down 
Chesapeake  Bay,  but  had  been  compelled  to  halt 
because  of  a  failure  of  the  French  fleet  to  cooperate. 
The  French  had  sailed  down  the  coast  and  almost 
into  the  Chesapeake,  when  they  were  overtaken  by 
the  English  fleet,  which  had  promptly  set  out  after 
them.  A  battle  had  ensued  in  which  both  sides  suf- 
fered severely,  and  thereupon  the  French  had 
relinquished  their  purpose  and  returned  to  Newport. 
Not  receiving  the  naval  support,  Lafayette  had  been 
compelled  to  abandon  his  undertaking;  and  the  end 
of  March  found  him  disconsolately  preparing  to 
return  northward  with  his  detachment. 

So  the  spring  of  1781  opened  darkly  for  Wash- 
ington as  to  both  of  his  forces  in  the  South.  But 
matters  mended.  About  the  first  of  April  he  heard 
again  from  Greene,  and  we  can  almost  catch  the 
sigh  of  relief  that  came.  The  two  retreating  di- 
visions of  Greene's  army  had  outmarched,  out- 
manoeuvered,  the  enemy;  and,  after  a  final  dash 
across  the  Dan  River,  stood  united  upon  Virginia 
soil  where,  for  want  of  boats,  the  British  could  not 
reach  them.  One  of  the  ablest  retreats  in  history 
had  come  to  an  end.  And  virtually  a  victorious 


192  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

one.  There  was  the  British  army,  foiled  of  its 
purpose ;  stripped  of  its  baggage,  sacrificed  to  hasten 
the  frantic  chase;  and  drawn  over  two  hundred 
miles  away  from  its  base  of  supplies. 

And  that  was  not  all ;  the  good  news  kept  coming. 
Cornwallis,  balked  at-  the  Dan,  had  turned  back 
southward;  and  Greene,  after  receiving  some  rein- 
forcements, had  recrossed  the  river  in  pursuit.  To 
be  sure,  he  had  not  gone  far  before  Cornwallis 
turned  upon  him  and  soundly  whipped  him  in  a 
battle  at  Guilford  Court  House.  But  that  mattered 
little. 

The  fact  is  that  that  was  Greene's  way  of  win- 
ning. He  always  was  peculiarly  unlucky  in  battle; 
and  yet  his  defeats  were  equal  to  other  generals' 
victories.  That  was  because  of  his  superb  strategy. 
The  opposing  general  usually  won  the  fight;  while 
Greene  won  what  they  were  fighting  for.  So  it 
had  been  at  Guilford  Court  House.  The  battle  had 
left  the  victorious  Cornwallis  so  crippled  and  so 
hampered  by  the  superior  strategy  of  his  opponent 
that  there  was  nothing  to  do  after  all  but  to  retreat. 
And  this  time  he  had  given  up  the  struggle  with 
Greene,  and  had  retired  eastward  to  the  coast  at 
Wilmington. 

Thereupon  the  American  general,  his  strategy 
ever  faultless,  had  simply  ignored  his  retreating 
enemy,  and  had  started  southward  upon  a  campaign 


RETREATING  TO  VICTORY         193 

of  his  own,  a  campaign  that  was  to  win  back  the 
conquered  States  of  South  Carolina  and  Georgia. 

So  April  saw  the  commander-in-chief  a  good  deal 
relieved  as  to  Greene,  though  still  anxious  for  his 
welfare.  However,  immediately  a  new  element  of 
danger  appeared  in  the  sailing  of  still  another 
British  force  from  New  York  southward.  To  meet 
this  move,  Washington  sent  orders  to  Lafayette, 
now  returning  northward,  to  about  face  and  to 
march  to  the  support  of  Greene.  Though,  as  the 
chief  gravely  said,  how  that  could  be  done  without 
money  or  credit  was  more  than  he  could  tell. 

These  orders  found  the  marquis  with  his  detach- 
ment at  the  head  of  Chesapeake  Bay.  And  now, 
truly  enough,  the  youthful  general  had  a  problem 
on  his  hands.  His  unpaid,  ill- fed,  and  pitifully 
ragged  soldiers  were  in  no  mood  for  the  new  ex- 
pedition. There  were  black  looks,  murmurings,  and 
even  desertions.  But  Lafayette  knew  his  men,  and 
took  his  own  way  to  handle  them.  He  announced 
that  there  was  no  need  for  desertion;  that  while 
the  detachment  was  setting  out  for  difficult  and 
dangerous  services,  he  did  not  care  for  any  man 
who  was  inclined  to  abandon  him ;  any  such  had  only 
to  ask  for  a  pass  in  order  to  be  sent  back  to  the 
North.  And  nobody  asked  for  a  pass,  and  suddenly 
"desertions  were  no  longer  in  fashion."  Before  the 
soldiers  could  change  their  minds  again,  the  re- 
sourceful marquis  piled  them  into  wagons  and  carts 


194  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

"to  give  their  march  the  air  of  a  frolic"  and  hurried 
them  southward. 

On  they  went  through  forests  and  marshes,  and 
mostly  in  the  rain,  until  they  came  to  a  town  tilted 
up  on  the  slope  of  a  hill  beside  a  wide  river.  This 
was  perhaps  the  third  or  fourth  town  to  be  started 
under  the  name  of  Baltimore;  and  it  was  the  one 
destined  to  become  the  metropolis  that  we  know 
to-day.  Scarcely  metropolitan  was  its  appearance 
on  that  April  day  of  1781;  its  little  yellow,  white, 
and  blue  houses  straggling  up  the  hillside;  though 
even  then  there  were  a  few  rather  pretentious  homes, 
standing  proudly  aloof  from  their  neighbors. 

Lafayette  and  his  suite,  straight  and  handsome 
on  their  clattering  horses,  rode  down  Calvert  Street 
to  a  warm  welcome.  Baltimore  Town  had  shown 
such  strict  patriotism  that  it  had  given  up  all  amuse- 
ments, from  theaters  to  cock-fights.  But  now  the 
Assembly  Hall  was  thrown  open,  and  a  grand  ball 
was  given  in  honor  of  Lafayette.  He  turned  the 
occasion  to  the  advantage  of  his  soldiers.  While 
the  Baltimore  worthies  were  toasting  the  French 
nobleman,  he  was  borrowing  money  from  them  upon 
his  personal  obligation  in  order  to  provide  his 
shabby  men  with  clothes  and  shoes ;  and  while  Bal- 
timore belles  were  artfully  competing  for  the  honor 
of  dancing  with  the  gallant  young jhero,  he  was  quite 
as  artfully  inducing  them  to  put  their  fair  fingers 
to  work  making  shirts. 


RETREATING  TO  VICTORY         195 

It  was  a  better-looking  and  a  better-feeling  little 
army  that  Lafayette,  on  April  19,  led  on  southward. 
By  this  time  the  marquis  knew  that  the  British 
— under  Phillips,  who  had  succeeded  Arnold — were 
about  to  start  upon  a  raiding  expedition  in  Virginia 
up  the  James  River.  That  meant  an  attack  upon 
Richmond,  where  the  Americans  had  valuable  mili- 
tary stores.  Lafayette  resolved  to  race  the  British 
commander  for  that  goal,  hoping  to  be  able  to  save 
the  stores. 

Now  the  way  was  down  into  the  beautiful  Vir- 
ginia springtime  which  nobody  had  time  to  notice, 
though  on  every  hand  the  dogwood  was  spreading 
its  gleaming  white  tents,  and  the  Judas-tree  bloom- 
ing like  sleep-flushed  Spring  herself.  Meanwhile 
Phillips's  marauding  forces  were  moving  rapidly 
up  the  south  side  of  the  James  River,  the  feeble 
militia  of  the  State  falling  back  before  them.  Upon 
Monday  morning,  April  30,  they  came  out  at  a 
point  just  opposite  Richmond;  but  when  they  were 
about  to  cross,  they  beheld  an  American  force 
drawn  up  in  possession  of  the  town.  Lafayette 
had  won!  The  amazed  and  discomfited  Phillips 
glared  and  swore.  Though  outnumbering  the 
Americans,  the  British  did  not  attack,  but  retired 
down  the  James. 

Now  Lafayette  had  time  to  take  a  breath  and 
to  look  about.  He  probably  thought  that,  except  for 
the  military  stores,  this  capital  of  Virginia  that  he 


196  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

had  been  racing  to  save  was  scarcely  worth  the 
trouble.  He  beheld  nothing  of  that  scene  of  broad 
mansions  with  white-pillared  porticos,  of  court- 
yards canopied  in  purple  wistaria,  of  towers  and 
spires  and  great  classic  temple,  that  is  the  Richmond 
of  to-day.  He  was  gazing  about  upon  a  disorderly 
lot  of  miserable  houses  that  looked  as  though  they 
might  all  slide  down  hill  into  the  river,  and  no  great 
loss  at  that.  Even  these  buildings  were  mostly 
empty,  the  inhabitants  having  fled  at  the  approach 
of  the  British.  In  that  shapeless  wooden  building 
at  the  foot  of  the  hill  the  Virginia  Legislature 
usually  assembled ;  but  just  now  that  too  was  empty, 
the  legislators  having  hastily  adjourned  to  a  village 
in  the  mountains. 

About  this  time  two  important  things  happened : 
Lafayette,  by  a  despatch  from  Greene,  was  given 
full  and  independent  command  in  Virginia;  while 
Phillips's  command  passed  to  no  less  a  person  than 
Cornwallis  himself,  who  came  bringing  his  army 
up  from  Wilmington.  That  made  a  much  bigger 
affair  of  this  campaign  in  the  Old  Dominion.  The 
boy  general,  Lafayette,  against  the  veteran  com- 
mander Cornwallis.  And  the  people  of  Virginia 
looked  upon  the  protector  assigned  to  them,  and 
"were  aghast  at  his  youth." 

It  was  toward  the  end  of  May  when  Cornwallis, 
his  forces  united  with  the  Phillips  detachment,  set 
buoyantly  forth  to  conquer  Virginia.  His  pros- 


RETREATING  TO  VICTORY         197 

pects  looked  bright.  He  had  five  thousand  men, 
soon  to  be  increased  to  eight  thousand.  Nothing 
stood  in  the  way  of  his  design  but  young  Lafayette. 
The  marquis  was  now  at  Richmond,  removing  the 
last  of  the  military  stores  to  safer  places.  His  little 
detachment  had  been  somewhat  augmented,  but 
chiefly  by  unreliable  militia,  poorly  armed  when 
armed  at  all;  his  whole  force  being  vastly  inferior 
to  that  of  Cornwallis. 

The  British  general,  confidently  declaring,  "The 
boy  cannot  escape  me,"  was  soon  nearing  Richmond. 
Lafayette,  too  weak  to  fight,  was  forced  at  the  out- 
set into  a  retreat,  or,  as  he  put  it,  into  "a  runaway 
kind  of  war  that  I  most  heartily  detest."  He 
marched  rapidly  northward,  hoping  to  meet  a  small 
American  force  under  Wayne  now  coming  to  re- 
inforce him.  Cornwallis  started  in  pursuit. 

And  so  began  a  chase  fraught  with  more  danger 
to  American  liberty  than  many  a  more  pretentious 
event.  If  Lafayette's  little  army  should  be  caught, 
it  would  inevitably  be  crushed;  and  Virginia,  now 
become  the  key  to  the  situation  in  the  South,  would 
be  thrown  open  to  the  enemy.  The  chase  was  fast 
and  keen  enough.  The  British  had  raided  the  fine 
plantation  stables,  and  upon  Virginia  race  horses 
went  Tarleton's  white  riders.  It  must  have  been 
the  spirit  of  the  flight  that  spoke  when  Lafayette 
reported  the  crossing  of  the  Rapidan  River  as  the 
crossing  of  the  "Rapid  Ann."  But  this  retreat  was 


198  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

not  a  matter  of  speed  alone ;  and  through  those  days 
of  "runaway  war"  Lafayette  showed  no  small 
degree  of  generalship.  At  length  Cornwallis  aban- 
doned pursuit,  and  got  what  consolation  he  could 
by  raiding  the  country  about  him.  Tarleton  even 
captured  several  Virginia  legislators;  and,  but  for 
being  delayed  by  a  late  breakfast  one  morning, 
would  have  got  no  less  a  person  than  the  author  of 
the  Declaration  of  Independence,  now  Governor  of 
Virginia. 

By  early  June  the  retreating  young  marquis  had 
run  well  up  the  map  into  northern  Virginia,  looking 
for  Wayne.  Then  one  day  his  eyes  were  gladdened. 
Toward  him  along  the  forest  road  from  the  north 
came  an  array  of  waving  plumes.  Lafayette  knew 
what  that  meant.  "Mad  Anthony"  Wayne's  troops 
might  be  in  tatters,  but  he  would  always  see  to  it 
that  they  had  plumes,  and  the  biggest  in  the  army. 
The  array  turned  out  to  be  principally  plumes,  the 
number  of  men  actually  added  to  Lafayette's  army 
being  distressingly  small.  However,  now  came  a 
turn  of  the  tables.  Though  still  with  a  force  wholly 
inferior  to  that  of  Cornwallis,  the  marquis  turned 
back  toward  his  late  pursuer. 

By  this  time  the  British  were  threatening  the 
village  of  Albemarle  Old  Court  House,  where  the 
Americans  had  military  stores.  Nothing  could  have 
pleased  Cornwallis  more  than  the  news  that  Lafay- 
ette was  coming  back  to  the  relief  of  the  place.  But 


RETREATING  TO  VICTORY         199 

while  the  British  general  was  confidently  preparing 
for  battle,  the  young  Frenchman  was  busy  reopen- 
ing a  disused  and  forgotten  road,  and  making  a 
stealthy  night  march  over  it.  Suddenly  Cornwallis 
discovered  that  "the  boy"  had  stolen  by  him  and 
taken  up  a  strong  position  in  front  of  the  threatened 
village  with  its  valuable  stores,  and  was  ready  for 
battle. 

Perhaps  this  was  the  last  straw  in  a  discouraging 
campaign  for  the  English  commander.  He  not  only 
declined  the  offer  to  fight,  but  withdrew  his  troops, 
and  started  upon  a  long  retreat  back  down  the  James 
River.  And  that  little  forgotten  road  has  never  been 
forgotten  since,  nor  the  new  name  that  it  took  from 
the  young  general's  use  of  it.  If  you  happen  to-day 
down  Albemarle  Old  Court  House  way,  anybody 
will  point  out  to  you  "the  Marquis's  Road." 

As  Cornwallis  retreated  down  the  James,  out 
upon  the  country  he  let  loose  his  pillaging  scarlet 
horde,  while  he  and  his  officers  reveled  in  the  lordly 
historic  homes  along  the  way.  "Shooting  up"  the 
stately  porticos  as  they  entered,  drinking  rare  wines 
poured  from  cut-glass  decanters,  wantonly  slashing 
ancestral  portraits  done  by  the  court  painters  of 
England,  gathering  priceless  plunder  into  baggage- 
trains,  they  went  down  the  line  of  the  proud  old 
manors  of  the  James. 

Steadily  Lafayette  followed  the  retreating,  raid- 
ing forces,  not  driving  them  before  him,  as  we 


200  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

Americans  usually  put  it,  for  he  was  far  too  weak 
for  that,  but  cleverly  harassing  their  flanks  and 
rear-guard  without  permitting  them  effectively  to 
strike  back ;  and  by  his  very  boldness  leading  Corn- 
wallis  to  suppose  his  force  much  greater  than  it 
really  was.  Having  but  an  insignificant  body  of 
cavalry,  he  sometimes  mounted  a  foot-soldier  be- 
hind each  horseman  in  order  to  make  a  strong  attack 
quickly.  Altogether  he  must  have  quite  convinced 
Cornwallis  that  the  boy  general  was  a  worthy 
antagonist,  whether  as  pursuer  or  pursued.  So,  on 
through  the  Virginia  June-time,  past  stately  old  plan- 
tation homes — rose-embowered  but  war-ravished, 
their  treasures  gone,  their  stables  empty,  their  fields 
bare — the  marquis  led  his  little  command,  and  won 
the  hearts  of  the  Old  Dominion  as  he  passeji.  He 
was  old  enough,  after  all;  nobody  longer  doubted 
that. 

Down  toward  the  mouth  of  the  James  the  British 
would  pass  to  the  other  side  of  the  stream,  and 
Lafayette  now  pressed  close,  intending  to  attack 
them  when  divided  in  crossing.  On  the  afternoon 
of  July  6,  according  to  intelligence  brought  to  him, 
the  right  moment  had  come,  most  of  the  retreating 
army  being  reported  as  having  passed  to  the  other 
side  of  the  river.  Night  was  approaching,  and  he 
at  once  threw  forward  a  party  under  Wayne  to 
attack  the  remaining  forces  of  the  enemy.  But 


RETREATING  TO  VICTORY        201 

quickly  the  marquis  saw  from  the  character  of  the 
fighting  that  something  was  wrong.  He  rode  out 
alone  upon  a  tongue  of  land  projecting  into  the 
stream,  where  he  got  a  full  view  of  the  enemy.  The 
situation  was  clear  enough  then.  His  information 
had  been  erroneous;  scarcely  any  of  the  British 
force  had  crossed  the  river;  instead  of  attacking  a 
rear-guard  only,  Wayne  was  engaging  the  whole 
British  Army.  In  hot  haste  Lafayette  spurred  to 
the  field  again.  Exposing  himself  with  reckless 
bravery,  he  ordered  Wayne  to  fall  back  upon  troops 
stationed  to  support  him;  and  in  the  end,  after  a 
gallant  charge  by  that  officer  and  after  Lafayette 
had  two  horses  shot  under  him,  the  Americans  made 
a  successful  retreat  from  the  unequal  combat. 

Cornwallis  now  crossed  the  river  and  resumed  his 
march  to  the  seaboard.  Embarking  his  army  upon 
transports,  he  sailed  a  little  way  up  the  Chesapeake, 
and  into  the  mouth  of  the  next  river  above  the 
James,  the  York  River.  There  in  the  early  days 
of  August  he  disembarked  his  troops  at  a  village 
on  the  high  bluffs,  called  Yorktown,  and  proceeded 
to  fortify  it,  and  also  Gloucester  Point,  on  the 
opposite  bank.  Little  as  the  veteran  English  general 
dreamed  it,  he  was  setting  the  stage  for  the  last 
scene  in  the  drama  of  the  American  Revolution. 
Now,  with  the  British  actors  already  on  the  boards, 
it  remained  but  to  assemble  the  Americans  and  the 


202  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

French  about  this  little  Virginia  village.  And  at 
two  points  so  far  remote  as  the  Hudson  Highlands 
and  the  West  Indies  preparations  were  already 
making  to  that  end. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE  FINAL  VENTURE 

TURN  to  the  scene  on  the  Hudson  in  those 
early  August  days  of  1781.  Stand  on  the 
east  bank  of  the  noble  river,  there  where  its  waters 
are  suddenly  caught  and  narrowed  in  the  grip  of 
the  bluffs  at  Dobbs  Ferry.  That  is  where  the 
American  main  army  is  now,  and  has  been  for  a 
few  weeks.  But  do  not  imagine  from  the  brilliantly 
clad  troops  you  see  that  some  military  fair  god- 
mother has  waved  her  wand  over  the  rags  of  the 
American  soldiers.  You  are  looking  at  the  wrong 
camp.  For  here  also  are  the  French  forces  from 
Newport,  the  two  allies  at  last  united  and  ready  for 
joint  action. 

In  long  lines,  the  camps  stretch  from  the  river 
out  across  the  Greenburg  hills,  a  beautiful  valley 
lying  between  the  French  and  the  Americans. 
Washington,  now  in  command  of  the  united  armies, 
probably  is  not  at  the  house  called  headquarters, 
but  in  his  open  marquee  on  the  hillside,  looking  with 
perturbed  gaze  out  over  the  warlike  scene. 

How  long  and  how  patiently  he  has  striven  for 
203 


204  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

just  this  situation ;  and  now,  how  full  it  is  of  mock- 
ery! In 'a  last  desperate  hope  he  has  overridden  all 
obstacles  and  united  his  armies  to  strike  a  decisive 
blow  somewhere,  somehow,  before  the  fast-waning 
fighting  spirit  of  the  States  shall  snuff  out  entirely. 
He  has  called  Rochambeau ;  and  the  French  general 
has  come,  bringing  his  splendid  army.  But  what 
of  Washington's  own  army?  There  it  is  down  by 
the  river,  that  little  body  of  perhaps  four  thousand 
men,  half -clothed,  poorly  armed,  borrowing  food 
from  the  French!  It  was  to  have  been  a  force 
several  times  as  large,  and  well  equipped,  and  there 
was  to  have  been  money  to  enable  Washington  to 
feed  his  troops,  and  to  move  them,  and  to  launch 
a  campaign.  But  the  States  are  war-weary,  and 
their  sons  have  not  come,  and  the  war-chest  is  left 
empty. 

All  this  at  a  time  peculiarly  propitious  if  America 
would  but  awake  and  act.  For  now  Washington 
knows  that  another  and  greater  French  fleet  has 
arrived  in  the  West  Indies,  and  is  likely  to  appear 
soon  in  American  waters.  To  think  that  at  such  a 
time  the  fighting  spirit  of  the  young  republic  should 
fail!  Small  wonder  if  it  is  with  troubled  eyes  that 
George  Washington  is  looking  out  from  his 
marquee  upon  this  encampment  on  the  Hudson. 

The  hot  summer  days  went  by.  Now  and  then  a 
reconnaissance,  perhaps  a  skirmish  with  the  enemy, 
as  Washington  felt  out  the  possibilities  of  an  attack 


THE  FINAL  VENTURE  205 

upon  New  York;  but  for  the  most  part  just  mis- 
erable embarrassing  inactivity.  Something  of 
wonderment  in  the  camp;  something  of  impatience 
too;  but,  topping  all,  an  absorbing  curious  interest 
of  the  two  armies  in  each  other.  Perfect  harmony 
prevailed,  and  a  growing  mutual  respect  and 
fraternal  feeling.  The  French  were  not  little 
monkeys  after  all,  as  the  English  had  said  they 
were;  and  as  for  the  Americans,  their  very  rags 
won  the  hearts  of  their  allies.  On  parade  Wash- 
ington's men  were  big-eyed  at  the  elegance  of  the 
army  of  France;  while  Rochambeau's  men  were 
almost  dim-eyed  over  the  "nakedness"  of  the 
patriots  of  America.  And  this,  although  those 
patriots  were  at  their  smartest, — fresh-shaven,  their 
tatters  clean,  and  their  heads  powdered. 

But  nothing  could  keep  down  the  high  spirits 
of  the  French.  Their  camps  were  scenes  of  merri- 
ment, and  neighborhood  barns  made  banquet-  and 
dancing-halls.  The  gay  young  nobles,  some  scarcely 
more  than  boys,  won — temporarily,  anyway — the 
hearts  of  the  country  belles,  though  eyes  had  to 
speak  for  tongues  that  were  useless.  And  in  turn 
those  young  nobles  themselves  lost  their  hearts ;  but 
that  was  to  Washington.  It  was  a  plain  case  of 
hero-worship.  When  he  sometimes  visited  their 
camps,  they  "had  not  eyes  enough  to  see  him  with." 
They  pronounced  him  magnificent.  Then  that 
admired  commander,  so  calm,  seemingly  so  com- 


206  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

posed,  would  return  to  his  own  camp  and  wrestle 
for  the  hundredth  time  with  the  humiliating  prob- 
lem before  him. 

At  last,  and  suddenly,  the  days  of  humiliation 
were  numbered ;  opportunity  was  at  hand,  desperate 
opportunity,  but  opportunity  for  all  that.  It  was 
on  Tuesday  afternoon,  August  14,  that  a  messenger 
from  Newport  came  riding  into  camp  with  stir- 
ring news, — the  great  French  fleet  from  the  West 
Indies  was  coming !  Admiral  de  Grasse  with  nearly 
thirty  ships  of  the  line  and  carrying  three  thousand 
land  troops  had  already  sailed  and  would  put  in  at 
Chesapeake  Bay. 

Never  was  opportunity  seized  upon  more  prompt- 
ly. At  once  Washington  determined  upon  a 
superbly  audacious  undertaking, — to  march  the 
allied  army  over  four  hundred  miles  to  the  foot  of 
Chesapeake  Bay;  and  there,  with  the  French  fleet 
to  prevent  Cornwallis's  escape,  overwhelm  the 
British  general  at  Yorktown.  Of  course,  looking 
at  matters  sanely  and  in  cold  blood,  the  thing  simply 
could  not  be  done.  Men  were  lacking.  Money  was 
lacking.  Time  was  lacking.  Above  all,  the  old 
faith  and  fire  of  the  people  to  put  such  a  movement 
through  were  lacking.  However,  it  was  not  in  cold 
blood  that  the  commander-in-chief  was  coming  at 
this  situation.  His  whole  being  aflame  with  in- 
dignation at  the  apathy  of  his  country,  at  the  dying 
patriotism  that  was  already  whining  for  a  dishon- 


THE  FINAL  VENTURE  207 

orable  peace,  this  man  "born  for  the  Revolution," 
was  become  a  pillar  of  fire  to  lead  his  fainting  peo- 
ple to  liberty. 

At  once  the  doing  of  the  impossible  began.  And 
the  first  step  was  to  lay  upon  the  whole  undertaking 
the  finger  of  secrecy.  Clinton  must  not  by  any 
chance  come  to  know,  and  so  be  enabled  to  send 
forces  to  the  support  of  Cornwallis.  Quite  wisely 
it  was  determined  that  the  best  way  to  conceal  the 
proposed  movement  from  enemies  was  to  conceal 
it  from  friends  as  well ;  so  the  great  secret  of  Wash- 
ington and  Rochambeau  was  shared  by  few  of  even 
those  high  in  the  allied  command.  Much  caution 
was  used  in  selecting  a  special  messenger  to  carry 
the  word  to  Lafayette,  together  with  urgent  instruc- 
tions for  him  to  spare  no  effort  to  hold  Cornwallis 
at  Yorktown. 

Now  came  George  Washington's  last  great  appeal 
to  what  was  left  of  the  old  spirit  of  '76.  In  every 
direction  he  sent  his  calls — keeping  his  secret  where 
he  could,  confiding  it  where  he  must — for  men,  for 
money,  for  equipment,  for  supplies.  There  was 
scant  response.  After  setting  aside  a  most  inade- 
quate force  to  leave  behind  to  guard  the  Hudson, 
the  commander-in-chief  had  perhaps  two  thousand 
men  to  join  the  French  for  the  expedition  against 
Cornwallis.  As  to  money,  little  came.  And  the 
generalissimo  of  the  united  armies  had  the  mortifi- 


208  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

cation  of  marching  his  American  forces  upon  money 
of  France,  from  the  war-chest  of  Rochambeau ! 

To  deceive  Clinton,  every  appearance  was  given 
of  an  intended  attack  upon  New  York.  Recon- 
noitering  parties  were  thrown  forward  in  that  direc- 
tion; roads  leading  toward  the  city  were  repaired; 
and  great  show  made  of  siege  preparations.  Even 
when,  upon  August  19,  the  march  for  Virginia 
began,  it  was  so  cleverly  conducted  as  to  keep  up 
for  some  days  this  deceptive  appearance.  Though 
the  troops  were  put  across  the  Hudson  and  moved 
down  the  western  side,  their  march  was  along  such 
roads,  and  included  such  demonstrations  as  indi- 
cated an  intention  of  passing  around  below  the  city 
and  attacking  across  Staten  Island.  Clinton  was 
completely  deceived,  and  lost  those  precious  days 
in  needless  preparations  for  his  own  defense,  while 
Cornwallis  went  unwarned  and  unaided. 

As  for  the  allied  armies  themselves,  they  knew 
not  what  to  think.  An  American  officer  wrote, 
"General  Washington  resolves  and  matures  his 
great  plans  and  designs  under  an  impenetrable  veil 
of  secrecy."  One  of  the  French  officers  summed 
up  the  mystery  of  the  movement  in  his  expressive, 
"What  to  believe!"  But  for  those  young  French 
officers  mystery  was  but  an  added  charm  in  this 
strange  service  of  romance  and  adventure  in 
America.  Gaily  through  the  torrid  heat  they  fol- 
lowed their  adored  American  leader,  declaring  him 


THE  FINAL  VENTURE  209 

"a  thousand  times  more  noble  and  splendid  at  the 
head  of  his  army  than  at  any  other  time." 

Washington  skilfully  kept  up  his  perplexing 
manceuvers,  giving  specific  orders  for  each  move- 
ment of  each  column,  until  nearly  the  end  of 
August.  By  that  time  the  armies  had  got  about 
as  far  as  they  could  go  with  any  show  of  menacing 
New  York;  then  suddenly,  to  their  own  surprise, 
they  were  headed  boldly  for  the  South. 

Now  the  comniander-in-chief,  his  armies  well 
launched  upon  their  great  undertaking,  left  them 
winding  down  through  the  summer  valleys  of  New 
Jersey,  and  rode  rapidly  ahead  toward  Philadelphia. 
How  well  he  knew  that  only  in  his  personal  efforts 
along  the  way  lay  any  hope  of  arousing  the  country 
to  the  support  of  his  daring  movement!  It  was  a 
brilliant  party  of  horsemen  that  went  galloping  off 
in  a  cloud  of  dust  down  the  hot,  dry  highway;  for 
with  Washington  rode  Rochambeau  and  one  or  two 
French  generals,  all  with  their  staffs  and  trains  of 
attendants. 

About  noon  of  that  Thursday,  August  30,  the 
allied  commanders  were  approaching  Philadelphia. 
Rolling  swiftly  out  from  the  town  along  the  high- 
way came  another  cloud  of  dust,  from  which 
emerged  the  city's  troop  of  light-horse  in  bravest 
attire  and  with  much  waving  of  high  plumes. 
Wheeling  and  falling  into  line,  they  formed  an 
escort  for  the  distinguished  travelers  into  the  city. 


210  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

But  soon  a  good  share  of  the  population  became  an 
huzzaing  escort  through  the  streets  as  the  party 
made  its  way  to  the  City  Tavern,  which  had  lately 
taken  the  place  of  the  old  London  Coffee  House, 
on  Second  Street.  Here  Washington  and  Rocham- 
beau  were  enthusiastically  received  by  the  town 
notables.  They  went  to  the  home  of  Robert  Morris 
on  Market  Street  (then  called  High),  where  they 
were  to  be  entertained. 

Wherever  Washington  went  that  day,  as  to  Inde- 
pendence Hall  to  pay  his  respects  to  Congress,  the 
people,  whose  very  idol  he  was,  crowded  about  him. 
Night  fell,  but  they  had  not  seen  enough.  Down 
between  the  two  great  ancient  lamps  that  flanked 
the  Morris  doorway  the  noble  figure  came,  and 
patiently  and  courteously  made  a  tour  of  the  city 
streets,  illuminated  in  his  honor.  The  common 
people,  who  somehow  were  always  strangely  at  one 
with  that  lordly  aristocrat,  pressed  close ;  small  boys 
almost  within  touch  of  the  elegant  blue-and-buff 
coat,  and  of  the  green-hilted  sword  with  its  spiral 
trimmings  of  silver.  And  no  one  in  the  admiring 
throng  knew  how  deeply  touched  the  big  modest 
hero  was  by  such  signs  of  the  love  and  trust  of  his 
countrymen. 

But  care  and  heavy  responsibility  were  upon  the 
commander-in-chief  that  night;  and  when  he  re- 
turned to  the  home  of  Robert  Morris  it  was  with 
anxious  thought  for  the  outcome  of  the  grave  move- 


THE  FINAL  VENTURE  211 

ment  he  had  undertaken.  Behind  him,  pressing  on 
rapidly  now,  were  two  armies  coming  at  his  call, 
while  the  problem  of  their  very  subsistence  stag- 
gered even  this  man  of  infinite  resource  and  un- 
conquerable faith.  The  Americans  were  coming, 
too,  in  a  dangerous  mood.  Their  pay  long  in 
arrears,  their  temper  was  as  ragged  as  their  clothes. 
Washington  knew  that  only  devotion  to  him  held 
them.  Would  even  that  hold  them  much  longer? 
As  for  money,  there  was  none.  And  then,  where 
was  De  Grasse?  Even  here,  no  word  from  him. 
Before  this  his  fleet  should  be  in  the  Chesapeake. 
Were  he  to  fail,  what  a  tragic  fiasco  this  allied 
march  into  the  South!  But  if  such  thoughts  were 
driving  sleep  from  the  chief  that  night,  they  were 
not  at  all  troubling  the  boys  who  had  so  proudly 
trailed  him  in  the  Philadelphia  streets ;  they,  in  their 
aroused  patriotism,  proceeded  to  settle  the  whole 
matter  off  hand  by  throwing  stones  through  the 
windows  of  houses  where  Tories  lived. 

It  was  on  Sunday  afternoon,  September  2,  that 
the  American  forces,  who  were  in  advance  of  the 
French,  approached  Philadelphia.  A  sorry-looking 
array  and,  truly  enough,  half  mutinous.  Through 
the  ranks  was  running  the  murmur  that  no  people 
deserved  liberty  who  didn't  fight  themselves  or  pay 
those  who  did  fight.  Probably  no  leader  could 
have  taken  those  men  a  day's  march  farther  except 
that  big  horseman  now  galloping  out  from  Phila- 


212  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

delphia,  with  his  aides,  to  place  himself  at  their 
head  for  the  march  through  the  city. 

That  march  was  anything  but  a  brilliant  affair. 
The  streets  were  very  dirty,  and  clouds  of  dust 
settled  thick  upon  the  ragged  soldiers.  But  the 
people  greeted  them  enthusiastically,  and  the  calling 
of  fife  and  drum  brought  to  the  open  windows  so 
many  pretty  powdered  heads  that  for  a  while,  per- 
haps, the  moody  men  forgot  their  troubles.  The 
march  was  straight  through  the  city  without  a  stop, 
and  then  an  encampment  was  made  on  the  bank  of 
the  Schuylkill. 

The  next  two  days  witnessed  the  arrival  of  the 
French  Army  in  two  divisions.  Those  were  days 
of  boundless  excitement  in  Philadelphia.  As  both 
divisions  halted  outside  the  city  to  furbish  up  and 
to  put  on  gala  decorations,  they  marched  through 
in  such  handsome  array  as  the  good  Americans  had 
never  dreamed  of.  At  the  head  not  merely  fifes 
and  drums,  but  complete  military  bands  that  "de- 
lighted the  people";  then  in  endless  lines  the  great 
white  army  of  the  French  king,  with  its  many-hued 
decorations  and  waving  plumes  and  gorgeous  silken 
banners;  the  whole  officered  by  resplendent  beings 
glittering  with  gold  and  jeweled  orders,  the  proudest 
nobility  of  Europe.  No  wonder  the  prim  Quaker 
town  went  wild  in  its  excitement,  and  in  its  accent 
too  as  it  cried,  "Vive  le  Roi!"  "Vive  la  France!" 

On  the  night  of  September  4  the  French  minister, 


THE  FINAL  VENTURE  213 

La  Luzerne,  gave  a  dinner  to  the  principal  French 
and  American  officers  and  city  notables.  Con- 
spicuous in  even  that  distinguished  company  were 
the  stately  nobility  and  the  graceful  courtesy  of  the 
American  commander-in-chief.  Quiet  and  com- 
posed as  ever,  he  gave  no  hint  of  the  anguish  he  was 
by  this  time  enduring.  Still  no  money!  Still  no 
word  from  De  Grasse  1 


CHAPTER  XXII 

YORKTOWN 

ON  the  morning  of  September  5,  1781,  the  two 
allied  chiefs  left  Philadelphia  and  moved  on 
southward  again  to  precede  the  marching  army; 
Washington  setting  out  on  horseback,  while  Ro- 
chambeau  took  boat  to  go  down  the  Delaware  as 
far  as  Chester.  The  French  commander  soon  made 
the  short  sail  down  the  river.  Upon  nearing  the 
Chester  landing  he  saw  a  big  man  on  the  bank 
wildly  waving  a  handkerchief  in  one  hand  and  his 
hat  in  the  other.  Incredible  as  it  seemed,  that  highly 
excited  man  was  no  other  than  the  dignified  Ameri- 
can commander-in-chief.  The  reserved  George 
Washington,  his  cocked  hat  in  the  air,  his  face  aglow 
with  joy,  and  calling  like  a  boy  to  Rochambeau  that 
a  courier  had  just  come,  and  that  De  Grasse  was 
in  the  Chesapeake !  As  the  French  commander  dis- 
embarked, the  two  men  embraced  quite  in  French 
fashion,  and  set  off  joyously  to  dine  together.  Then 
on  southward  hastened  the  chief,  leaving  Rocham- 
beau to  follow  more  leisurely.  Washington's  anxie- 
ties now  centered  about  a  little  settlement  on  ahead 

214 


YORKTOWN  215 

at  the  upper  end  of  Chesapeake  Bay,  called  Head  of 
Elk,  where  he  hoped  to  embark  his  troops  to  sail  to 
their  destination.  For  days  he  had  been  sending  his 
appeals  along  the  coast  for  the  assembling  of  ves- 
sels at  this  point, — big  boats,  little  boats,  anything 
that  would  carry  soldiers  and  equipment  down  the 
bay. 

At  this  Head  of  Elk,  too,  he  determined  that 
there  must  be  money  on  hand  for  a  further  payment 
to  his  troops,  no  matter  what  else  was  sacrificed  for 
the  purpose.  One  of  his  pathetic  calls  for  money 
grew  poetic  in  its  intensity,  as  he  wrote,  "I  wish  it 
to  come  on  the  wings  of  speed."  It  was  September 
6  when  the  tireless  chief  rode  into  the  little  settle- 
ment on  the  upper  waters  of  the  Chesapeake.  The 
American  forces,  still  nearer  to  mutiny,  were  al- 
ready there,  and  Rochambeau  and  the  French  soon 
arrived.  But  money  was  not  there;  nor  anything 
like  enough  boats! 

Now  Washington's  call  was  such  that  there  came 
one  day,  not  upon  "the  wings  of  speed,"  but  upon 
lumbering  ox-carts,  some  good  hard  money.  Not 
enough,  and,  what  there  was  of  it,  borrowed  from 
the  French.  It  was  in  kegs,  and  the  prospects  of 
American  liberty  brightened  with  the  soldiers'  eyes 
as  the  oaken  heads  were  knocked  in.  As  to  the 
boats,  nothing  more  could  be  done.  A  part  of  the 
soldiers  now  embarked,  but  most  of  them  marched 


2i6  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

on,  and  finally  found  tardy  transportation,  some  at 
Baltimore  and  some  at  Annapolis. 

On  September  8,  the  commander-in-chief,  again 
preceding  Rochambeau,  set  out  from  Head  of  Elk. 
A  short  stop  at  Baltimore,  and  then,  with  a  single 
aide,  he  was  off  again  next  morning.  But  it  was 
something  besides  military  urgency  that  brought 
him  to  his  saddle  at  daybreak  that  Sunday.  His 
thoughts  now  were  upon  a  spot  to  the  southward, 
almost  in  his  direct  course,  where  stood  a  house 
looking  out  upon  a  broad  river.  A  house  he  had 
not  seen  for  over  six  years,  not  since  the  beginning 
of  the  war, — his  own  home,  Mount  Vernon.  It 
would  be  a  hard  day's  ride,  but  he  determined  that 
that  night  he  would  rest  beneath  his  own  roof-tree. 

Some  time  before  midnight,  under  the  full 
Southern  moon,  the  travelers  rode  through  the  old 
town  of  Alexandria,  asleep  by  the  Potomac.  Now 
Mount  Vernon  was  but  a  few  miles  away.  If  the 
impatient  Washington  was  trying  to  vision  his 
home-coming,  he  had  some  trouble  in  doing  it. 
He  had  never  seen  just  the  home  he  was  now  ap- 
proaching. The  Mount  Vernon  he  had  left  in  1775 
had  been  an  unpretentious  building,  although  he 
had  already  begun  to  enlarge  and  beautify  it. 
Through  the  years  since  then  the  work  had  gone 
on  extensively.  And  now,  as  the  homing  rider  in 
the  night  came  up  out  of  a  wild  ravine  and  topped 
the  hill  beyond,  the  house  that  he  suddenly  beheld 


YORKTOWN  217 

white  in  the  moonlight  was  the  spacious  mansion 
that  we  all  know  so  well  to-day. 

For  three  days  the  commander-in-chief  was  a 
simple  country  gentleman  at  home  with  his  wife 
and  his  friends.  Rochambeau  came,  and  soon  the 
house  was  crowded  with  guests.  Here  Washington 
appeared  at  his  best,  the  central  figure  in  a  scene 
of  old-time  Virginian  hospitality.  It  was  a  short 
respite.  On  September  12,  he  and  Rochambeau 
with  their  aides  were  again  in  the  saddle.  Almost 
three  days  more  of  hard  riding,  and  then,  on  the 
afternoon  of  September  14  they  were  joyously  re- 
ceived in  Lafayette's  camp,  which  was  then  about 
ten  miles  from  Yorktown,  at  the  village  of 
Williamsburg.  With  his  horse  on  a  run  the  mar- 
quis came  to  meet  them,  and  it  is  said  that  he  threw 
his  arms  around  Washington  in  a  most  ardent  em- 
brace. So  ended  Lafayette's  independent  leader- 
ship. He  had  made  a  notable  campaign  in  the 
South,  and  it  closed  with  Cornwallis  securely 
trapped  at  Yorktown. 

Now  Washington  took  command  of  the  Virginia 
forces,  including  the  French  troops  that  had  been 
landed  from  the  fleet  of  De  Grasse.  Within  a  few 
days  the  allied  armies  coming  from  the  North  ar- 
rived, giving  the  commander-in-chief  a  total  of 
>  sixteen  thousand  men. 

At  five  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  September  28 
the  entire  army,  except  a  detachment  sent  to  guard 


218  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

Gloucester  Point,  moved  from  Williamsburg,  and 
by  evening  was  marching  along  the  York  River, 
approaching  the  final  scene  of  its  labors.  There, 
perched  high  on  the  river  bluffs,  the  little  village  of 
Yorktown;  running  raggedly  around  its  land  sides, 
the  British  fortifications;  within  the  works,  Corn- 
wallis  and  his  army  of  about  seventy-five  hundred 
veteran  troops. 

Promptly  the  allied  forces  took  up  their  position 
before  the  town,  and  gradually  they  drew  a  semi- 
circle of  intrenchments  about  it,  sweeping  from  the 
river  front  above  around  to  the  river  front  below. 
By  October  9  they  had  batteries  in  place  and 
that  evening  Washington  put  a  match  to  the  first 
gun  to  be  fired  from  the  American  works.  From 
that  time  the  bombardment  and  the  return  fire  were 
almost  continuous. 

Two  redoubts  of  the  enemy,  near  the  river,  en- 
filaded the  allied  trenches,  and  it  was  determined  to 
take  them  by  storm.  The  capture  of  one  redoubt 
was  entrusted  to  the  Americans,  and  of  the  other  to 
the  French.  Among  the  Americans  the  honor  fell 
to  a  detachment  from  Lafayette's  light  infantry, 
and  among  the  French  to  a  detachment  from  Baron 
de  Viomenil's  chasseurs  and  grenadiers.  On  the 
eve  of  the  attack,  the  marquis  and  the  baron  had 
some  disagreement  as  to  the  merit  of  their  re- 
spective troops;  and  as  the  two  storming-parties 


YORKTOWN  219 

waited  for  the  signal,  it  was  in  a  considerable  spirit 
of  rivalry. 

It  was  the  night  of  October  14,  a  cold  night  with 
a  drizzling  rain.  At  about  eight  o'clock  the  bom- 
barding cannon  ceased  their  roar,  and  then  from 
one  of  the  batteries  fiery  rockets  shot  up  in  the 
darkness.  It  was  the  signal,  and  the  two  storming- 
parties  were  off. 

The  Americans  went  forward  impetuously  under 
a  heavy  fire  from  the  enemy's  works,  but  without 
firing  a  shot  themselves ;  they  scaled  the  parapet  of 
the  redoubt,  and  carried  everything  before  them  at 
the  point  of  the  bayonet.  The  whole  was  the  work 
of  but  a  few  minutes.  And  then  the  proud  Ameri- 
can general  Lafayette,  perceiving  that  the  French 
were  still  fighting,  had  the  pleasure  of  sending  one 
of  his  aides  to  the  Baron  de  Viomenil  with  some- 
what mocking  compliments  and  an  offer  of  assist- 
ance. However,  in  a  few  minutes  more,  the 
French,  who  had  met  with  the  stronger  resistance,  as 
gallantly  carried  their  redoubt. 

All  this  time,  in  an  exposed  embrasure  of  one  of 
the  batteries,  Washington  had  been  watching  the 
attack.  It  might  be  familiar  work  for  the  French 
veterans;  it  was  new  work  for  his  men.  Despite 
bullets  whistling  about  him,  he  had  declined  to  re- 
tire. Now,  when  it  was  all  over,  he  drew  a  long 
breath,  and  turning  to  Knox  said,  "The  work  is 


220  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

done,  and  well  done!"  Then  he  called  for  his 
horse,  and  rode  away  in  the  darkness. 

The  situation  of  Cornwallis  was  now  almost 
hopeless.  Under  the  fierce  bombardment  his  de- 
fenses were  crumbling  about  him.  He  made  a 
gallant  sortie  on  the  night  of  the  fifteenth  and  a 
desperate  attempt  to  escape  by  the  river  on  the  night 
of  the  sixteenth;  but  both  efforts  failed.  The  last 
hope  fled  under  the  heavy  fire  of  the  allies  on  the 
morning  of  the  seventeenth.  About  ten  o'clock 
two  scarlet  figures  appeared  upon  the  British  para- 
pet; one  was  vigorously  beating  a  drum,  although 
scores  of  drums  could  not  have  been  heard  in  the 
din  of  the  bombardment,  and  the  other  was  waving 
a  white  flag.  The  allies  could  see  the  flag,  if  they 
could  not  hear  the  drum,  and  the  cannonading 
ceased.  The  flag-bearer  came  forward,  was  met 
by  an  American  officer,  and  after  being  blindfolded 
was  conducted  to  the  rear  of  the  allied  lines.  So 
began  negotiations  for  the  capitulation  of  the 
British  army,  and  in  two  days  they  were  completed 
ready  for  the  formal  ceremony  of  surrender. 

It  is  the  afternoon  of  October  19,  a  bright  sunny 
afternoon.  There  seems  a  strange,  peaceful  quiet 
about  little  Yorktown,  after  the  long  din  and  up- 
roar of  bombardment.  In  an  open  space  some 
distance  from  the  village,  the  entire  allied  army  is 
drawn  up  in  a  double  column  stretching  away  a 
mile  long;  the  Americans  on  one  side,  the  French 


K  O 


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YORKTOWN  221 

on  the  other.  One  brilliant-hued  line,  one  somber 
one,  but  both  joyously  expectant.  At  the  head  of 
the  array,  and  nobly  mounted,  are  Washington  and 
Rochambeau  with  some  of  their  generals;  Wash- 
ington magnificent  upon  his  famous  big  war-horse, 
Nelson.  Two  o'clock.  Out  from  the  broken  ram- 
parts of  Yorktown  comes  a  marching  column  of 
scarlet,  the  long-dreaded  army  of  Cornwallis  on 
its  way  to  captivity. 

And  that  way  Washington  has  purposely  made 
hard  in  memory  of  the  humiliating  terms  that  the 
enemy  forced  upon  the  Americans  when  Lincoln 
surrendered  at  Charleston.  Now  the  British,  de- 
nied the  display  of  their  colors  and  the  music  they 
would  have  marched  to,  come  on  with  their  battle- 
flags  cased,  and  their  bands  playing  the  significant 
air,  "The  World  Turned  Upside  Down."  In  the 
allied  lines  how  expectant  eyes  are  waiting  for  a 
view  of  the  famous  Cornwallis!  But  they  are  not 
to  be  gratified.  As  the  scarlet  column  draws  near, 
it  is  seen  that  a  subordinate  officer,  who  proves  to 
be  General  O'Hara,  is  riding  in  command. 

He  approaches  the  commander-in-chief  and 
apologizes  for  the  non-appearance  of  Cornwallis  on 
the  ground  of  illness.  Washington  listens  with 
dignified  courtesy,  but  refers  him  to  Lincoln  as  the 
officer  who  will  receive  the  sword  of  Cornwallis. 
The  glittering  token  of  submission  is  placed  in  the 
hand  of  Lincoln  who  at  once  returns  it  to  the 


222  SWORD  .OF  LIBERTY 

British  general.  Now  the  surrendered  forces 
march  down  the  long  lane  between  the  two  lines  of 
the  allied  armies,  to  a  field  just  beyond.  There 
they  ground  their  arms  (some  with  such  angry 
force  as  to  break  them)  and  then  returning  in  the 
same  way,  pass  under  guard  as  prisoners  of  war. 

The  days  following  the  great  victory  were  filled 
with  rejoicing  among  the  allied  forces  at  York-  . 
town;  rejoicing  that  spread  as  fast  as  the  good 
news  could  travel,  till  it  rang  bells  and  lighted  bon- 
fires all  up  and  down  the  land.  But  Washington 
did  not  permit  his  joy  over  one  victory  to  make  him 
lose  sight  of  the  possibility  of  another. 

Already  he  was  looking  on  farther  south.  And 
the  prospect  was  alluring.  Good  reports  had  been 
coming  from  Greene.  Fighting  where  he  could, 
running  where  he  had  to,  usually  getting  the  worst 
of  the  battle  but  the  best  of  its  results,  he  had 
steadily  out-generaled  the  British,  manceuvering 
them  out  of  one  post  after  another,  until  by  this 
time  in  the  whole  South  they  held  but  three  towns, 
Wilmington,  Charleston,  and  Savannah.  Now 
with  the  aid  of  De  Grasse's  fleet,  Washington  pro- 
posed an  attack  upon  Charleston  or  upon  Wilming- 
ton. But  the  French  admiral  felt  that  his  duties  in 
the  West  Indies  precluded  his  remaining  longer  in 
American  waters ;  and  so,  as  the  project  was  hope- 
less without  the  fleet,  it  had  to  be  abandoned. 

That  meant  that  the  campaign  of  1781  was  over. 


YORKTOWN  223 

De  Grasse  sailed  away  for  the  Indies ;  the  American 
forces  were  at  once  started  back  for  the  North ;  and 
it  was  arranged  that  the  French  army  should  remain 
for  the  winter  in  Virginia.  The  thoughts  of  La- 
fayette turned  again  toward  France.  Two  years 
had  passed  since  he  last  saw  home  and  family;  and, 
besides,  for  the  next  few  months  he  could  do  more 
for  the  cause  in  France  than  in  America. 

Then  came  the  separation  of  the  commander-in- 
chief  and  his  "young  soldier,"  who  was  to  go  to 
Boston  to  take  ship.  Only  a  short  separation,  they 
thought;  soon  spring  and  the  next  campaign  would 
bring  Lafayette  back.  They  did  not  appreciate  the 
heavy  blow  they  had  dealt  to  England ;  that  the  war 
was  over,  and  that  their  days  of  campaigning  to- 
gether ended  there  at  Yorktown. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

PEACE   BETWEEN    ENGLAND   AND  AMERICA 

FRANCE,  back  to  which  Lafayette  was  sailing, 
at  the  opening  of  the  year  1782  was  some  two 
years  nearer  her  own  horrible  cataclysm  than  when 
he  last  left  her  shores.  And  still  not  a  sign.  Let 
appearances  tell  the  story,  and  all  was  well  with 
France.  Even  the  tottering  throne  itself  seemed 
never  more  stable.  Yorktown  had  fixed  the  popu- 
larity of  the  king,  and  the  recent  birth  of  an  heir 
to  the  crown  seemed  to  have  won  all  hearts  to  the 
queen. 

Now,  while  Lafayette  was  on  the  sea,  his  country- 
men were  in  a  sort  of  joyous  interval  between  two 
glorious  festivities.  Just  behind,  the  jubilation 
over  Yorktown ;  just  ahead,  a  splendid  fete  in  honor 
of  the  baby  dauphin.  On  January  20,  in  prepara- 
tion for  this  event  the  king  and  the  queen  made  a 
"voyage,"  as  they  would  say,  from  Versailles  along 
the  road  toward  Paris,  to  the  king's  chateau,  La 
Muette,  in  Passy,  from  which  they  were  to  take 
part  in  the  celebration  at  the  capital. 

That  gave  Benjamin  Franklin  royal  neighbors, 
for  La  Muette  was  next  door  to  the  Hotel  de  Valen- 

224 


ENGLAND  AND  AMERICA  225 

tinois.  Of  course  changes  had  come  to  the  Doctor. 
The  big  body  was  more  bent,  the  face  more  lined, 
and  he  got  about  with  more  difficulty.  Indeed,  the 
old  gentleman  thought  himself  quite  senile,  and  had 
urged  Congress  to  accept  his  resignation;  but  Con- 
gress very  wisely  had  refused,  and  some  of  his 
best  work  lay  yet  before  him. 

A  much  greater  change  was  noticeable  in  the 
Doctor's  grandson  Temple.  He  seemed  trying  to 
put  on  as  many  years  as  his  grandfather  would  like 
to  take  off.  He  took  snuff  ostentatiously  from  a 
box  ornamented  with  a  miniature  of  Lafayette. 
Perhaps  his  rather  exaggerated  sense  of  importance 
arose  from  a  new  honor.  On  days  when  Franklin 
could  not  get  about,  this  boy  even  represented  him 
at  court. 

The  fete  of  January  21,  1782,  was  a  triumphant 
occasion  for  the  French  monarchy.  Everywhere 
the  king  and  the  queen  were  received  with  acclama- 
tions. If  strangely  mingling  with  these  was  a  low, 
ominous  undertone,  the  police  were  there  to  attend 
to  that,  and  what  the  world  heard  were  the  joyous 
cries,  "Vive  le  Roi!"  "Vive  la  Reine!"  "Vive  Mon- 
seigneur  le  Dauphin!" 

That  night  all  Paris  was  illuminated,  but  the 
scene  of  the  royal  fete  was  the  Hotel  de  Ville. 
There  king  and  queen  and  court  made  a  brilliant 
assemblage.  In  the  midst  of  the  festivities  word 
came  from  somewhere,  and  spread  quickly  on  the 


226  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

breath  of  the  throng,  that  Lafayette  had  returned. 
There  was  great  excitement.  In  the  heart  of  a 
little  brown-eyed  marquise  there  was  tumult.  To 
her  the  queen  showed  favor,  and  happy  Adrienne 
de  Lafayette  was  carried  off  in  the  royal  coach 
to  meet  her  hero  husband.  Marie  Antoinette  left 
her  at  the  entrance  of  the  Hotel  de  Noailles,  where 
she  had  been  living  during  Lafayette's  absence  in 
America.  It  is  told  that  the  excited  Adrienne 
tripped  upon  her  ceremonious  gown  as  she  hastened 
up  the  steps  between  waiting  lackeys;  but  the  door 
flew  open,  and  the  strong  arms  of  a  young  American 
major-general  caught  her  up  and  carried  her  into 
the  house,  much  to  the  delight  of  a  Parisian  street 
throng. 

But  Lafayette  could  not  spend  much  of  the  en- 
suing days  in  home  life.  All  Paris  claimed  him. 
There  was  endless  celebration  in  his  honor,  and  his 
appearance  in  the  streets  meant  joyous  commotion. 
Even  from  the  throne  came  many  marks  of  favor; 
and  he  was  soon  made  a  field-marshal.  With  the 
coming  of  that  spring  of  1782,  Lafayette  was  pre- 
paring for  his  return  to  America ;  but  as  there  were 
still  no  indications  of  an  active  campaign  there, 
Franklin  prevailed  upon  him  to  remain  a  while 
longer  in  France;  and  soon  they  both  learned  that 
campaigning  in  America  was  over. 

One  April  day  a  carriage  rolled  into  the  court- 
yard of  the  Hotel  de  Valentinois;  a  stranger 


ENGLAND  AND  AMERICA  227 

alighted,  a  benevolent-looking  old  gentleman,  who 
was  soon  ushered  into  the  presence  of  Franklin. 
He  proved  to  be  Mr.  Richard  Oswald  of  London; 
and  he  bore  credentials  showing  him  authorized  to 
speak,  at  least  tentatively,  for  the  British  Govern- 
ment upon  the  subject  of  peace.  No  subject  could 
be  more  agreeable  to  Franklin ;  and  under  an  act  of 
Congress  he  was  now  one  of  five  commissioners  ap- 
pointed to  negotiate  peace  when  the  time  should  ar- 
rive. His  four  associates  were  John  Adams,  John 
Jay,  Thomas  Jefferson,  and  Henry  Laurens,  no  one 
of  them  now  in  France.  So,  in  the  quiet  talk  of 
two  old  gentlemen  there  at  Passy  that  April  day, 
began  the  negotiations  that  were  to  end  in  the  recog- 
nized independence  of  the  United  States. 

Other  talks  followed,  and  other  commissioners 
came  over  from  London  to  negotiate  with  France 
and  Spain.  After  a  while  Franklin's  associates, 
except  Jefferson,  arrived;  and  the  boy  Temple  was 
made  secretary  of  the  American  Peace  Commission. 

The  peace  negotiations  dragged,  and  the  allies  be- 
came suspicious  of  Britain's  sincerity.  To  bring 
affairs  to  a  conclusion,  France  and  Spain  determined 
to  send  a  powerful  combined  expedition,  under 
D'Estaing,  to  attack  the  English  first  in  the  West 
Indies  and  then  in  America.  Lafayette  was  ap- 
pointed chief  of  staff  of  the  combined  armies,  and 
went  to  Spain,  as  the  expedition  was  to  sail  from 
Cadiz.  Again  the  marquise  was  left  with  her 


228  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

parents,  but  also  with  a  little  addition  to  her  own 
family,  called  in  honor  of  both  France  and 
America,  Marie  Antoinette  Virginie.  Lafayette's 
absence  this  time  proved  not  for  long.  The 
English  were  sincere  enough,  and  by  January  20, 
1783,  all  the  preliminaries  of  peace  were  settled  and 
signed. 

When  the  joyful  news  reached  Cadiz,  it  put  an 
.end  to  the  Franco-Spanish  expedition  which  was 
just  about  to  sail.  Lafayette's  first  thought  was  of 
America.  He  succeeded  in  having  one  of  the  ves- 
sels of  the  fleet  despatched  across  the  Atlantic,  and 
in  the  message  it  bore  from  him  the  United  States 
first  learned  that  the  struggle  for  liberty  was  won. 
Some  months  later,  on  September  3,  1783,  the  final 
definitive  treaty  was  signed,  and  the  United  States 
took  its  place  among  the  independent  countries  of 
the  world. 

So  Lafayette,  his  days  of  fighting  for  liberty  in 
America  at  an  end,  returned  from  Spain  to  France. 
By  the  spring  of  1784  he  was  making  plans  for  a 
visit  to  America.  Washington  could  not  come  to 
him;  he  would  go  to  Washington.  Gaily  he  wrote 
of  seeing  his  old  commander  and  Lady  Wash- 
ington :  "Tell  her  that  I  hope  soon  to  thank  her  for 
a  dish  of  tea  at  Mount  Vernon.  Yes,  my  dear 
General,  before  the  month  of  June  is  over,  you  will 
see  a  vessel  coming  up  the  Potomac,  and  out  of  that 


ENGLAND  AND  AMERICA  229 

vessel  will  your  friend  jump  with  a  panting  heart 
and  all  the  feelings  of  perfect  happiness." 

But  it  was  August  by  the  time  Lady  Washington 
gave  the  "French  boy"  that  dish  of  tea  at  Mount 
Vernon.  There  were  two  weeks  of  happy  reunion, 
then  a  tour  of  the  country  by  Lafayette,  in  which 
he  was  most  joyously  welcomed  everywhere,  and 
finally  a  few  last  days  at  Mount  Vernon.  When 
the  time  for  leaving  came,  Washington  accompanied 
him  some  distance  in  his  carriage.  Then  the  two 
friends  separated,  not  to  meet  again.  What  that 
parting  meant  to  them,  even  though  they  could  not 
know  it  was  final,  they  have  told  us  themselves. 
From  his  ship  Lafayette  wrote : 

Adieu,  adieu,  my  dear  General.  It  is  with  inex- 
pressible pain  that  I  feel  I  am  going  to  be  separated 
from  you  by  the  Atlantic.  Everything  that  admiration, 
respect,  gratitude,  friendship,  and  filial  love  can  inspire 
is  combined  in  my  affectionate  heart  to  devote  me  most 
tenderly  to  you.  In  your  friendship  I  feel  a  delight  which 
words  cannot  express.  Adieu,  my  dear  General. 

And  then,  the  most  touching  words  of  affection 
Washington  ever  wrote  to  any  man : 

In  the  moment  of  our  separation,  upon  the  road  as  I 
traveled,  and  every  hour  since,  I  have  felt  all  that  love, 
respect  and  attachment  for  you,  with  which  length  of 
years,  close  communion,  and  your  merits  have  inspired 
me.  I  often  asked  myself,  as  our  carriages  separated, 
whether  that  was  the  last  sight  I  ever  should  have  of 
you.  And  though  I  wished  to  say  no,  my  fears  answered 
yes.  ...  It  is  unnecessary,  I  persuade  myself,  to  re- 
peat to  you,  my  dear  Marquis,  the  sincerity  of  my  re- 
gard and  friendship;  nor  have  I  words  which  could  ex- 


230  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

press  my  affection  for  you,  were  I  to  attempt  it.  My 
fervent  prayers  are  offered  for  your  safe  and  pleasant 
passage,  happy  meeting  with  Madame  Lafayette  and  fam- 
ily, and  the  completion  of  every  wish  of  your  heart. 

It  was  toward  the  last  of  January,  1785,  that  the 
marquis  landed  again  in  France.  This  time,  too, 
he  arrived  in  season  to  take  part  in  the  public  re- 
joicing over  a  royal  baby,  another  boy,  destined 
by  the  death  of  his  older  brother  to  become  the 
Dauphin  of  France,  but  destined  also  to  be  "the 
king  who  never  reigned."  Lafayette  now  found 
many  prominent  Americans  in  Paris,  and  the  pa- 
latial Hotel  de  Lafayette,  in  the  Rue  de  Bourbon, 
became  more  than  ever  a  rendezvous  for  them.  One 
of  the  most  noted  figures  was  a  very  tall,  slender, 
nervously  athletic  man,  about  forty  years  old,  with 
red  hair,  a  distinguished  appearance,  plenty  of 
freckles,  and  the  mind  that  produced  the  Declara- 
tion of  Independence.  At  that  time,  this  dis- 
tinguished American  was  a  man  of  considerable 
elegance  in  manner  and  dress. 

What  the  towering  Thomas  Jefferson  was  in 
France  for  was  to  act  with  Franklin  and  Adams  in 
negotiating  commercial  treaties,  but  he  was  soon 
to  take  still  more  important  place.  For  in  May 
came  word  from  Congress  at  last  releasing  the 
weary  Franklin  from  his  post  as  Minister  Pleni- 
potentiary to  the  Court  of  Versailles,  and  appointing 
Jefferson  in  his  stead.  And  now  praise  of  the  old 
philosopher  reached  its  zenith  in  a  single  remark. 


ENGLAND  AND  AMERICA  231 

"You  replace  Doctor  Franklin,  I  hear,"  said  Ver- 
gennes  to  Jefferson.  "I  succeed  him,"  was  the 
reply;  "no  one  can  replace  him." 

The  release  came  none  too  soon  for  Franklin. 
He  had  failed  greatly  in  the  past  two  years. 
Broken  and  suffering,  he  wrote  to  his  family  in 
Philadelphia  of  his  preparations  to  return  to 
America :  "I  have  continued  to  work  till  late  in  the 
day;  'tis  time  I  should  go  home  and  go  to  bed." 
In  France  there  was  nation-wide  regret  at  his  going, 
and  farewell  marks  of  attention  and  affection  were 
showered  upon  him  to  his  last  moment  on  French 
soil. 

Upon  the  afternoon  of  July  12,  1785,  all  was 
ready  in  the  courtyard  of  the  Hotel  de  Valentinois 
for  Franklin's  departure.  As  he  could  not  ride  in 
the  carriage  with  his  grandsons,  being  no  longer 
able  to  endure  the  motion,  a  kind  of  litter  or  sedan, 
belonging  to  the  queen,  had  been  placed  at  his  ser- 
vice. The  old  man's  many  good-bys  had  been  said, 
including  those  to  Lafayette,  who  was  now  visiting 
in  Germany.  At  four  o'clock  the  travelers  set  out 
upon  their  journey  to  the  coast  and  their  ship,  fol- 
lowed in  carriages  by  friends  who  could  not  yet 
part  with  Franklin.  Jefferson,  who  had  come  out 
to  Passy,  watched  them  go  and  said,  "It  seemed  as 
though  the  village  had  lost  its  patriarch." 

More  than  that.  France  had  lost  a  Mecca. 
Courtier,  savant,  traveler,  peasant,  all  had  worn  a 


232  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

path  to  the  door  of  Benjamin  Franklin.  And 
the  United  States  had  lost  its  first  and  greatest  min- 
ister plenipotentiary.  For  some  eight  years  the  old 
Doctor  had  served  his  country,  formally  as  minister 
to  France,  virtually  as  ambassador  to  Europe,  and 
with  a  uniform  success  that  no  other  American  could 
have  attained.  As  he  said,  he  had  worked  "till 
late,"  and  now  in  the  fullness  of  years  and  of 
honors,  but  broken  and  suffering,  he  was  going 
home.  The  swaying  litter,  traveling  slowly,  dis- 
appeared down  the  highway  in  its  journey  to  the 
coast. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

A   CRUMBLING  THRONE 

AMERICA  was  fortunate  in  the  man  who 
watched  the  old  philosopher  go,  the  man  who 
"succeeded"  Benjamin  Franklin.  Jefferson  was 
now  in  his  prime ;  his  exceptionally  well-stored  mind 
devoted  to  his  country  and  to  the  cause  of  liberty. 
He  followed  Franklin's  example  in  locating  the 
American  Embassy  away  from  the  heart  of  Paris, 
toward  Versailles  but  not  so  far  out  as  Passy.  He 
lived  virtually  on  the  outskirts  of  the  capital,  on 
the  Rue  Neuve  de  Berri,  near  the  Champs-filysees. 
Again  a  most  creditable  establishment  to  do  honor 
to  America,  a  stately  hotel  with  its  many  dependent 
buildings,  its  large  court,  and  its  garden.  He  had 
saddle-  and  driving-horses,  chariot  and  cabriolet. 
He  entertained  handsomely  and  with  lavish  hos- 
pitality. There  was  a  retinue  of  ten  or  twelve 
servants,  besides  the  all-important  maitre  d'hotel, 
Petit,  so  devoted  to  his  American  master.  Like 
Franklin,  the  new  minister  was  a  lover  of  France; 
and  he  was  now  keenly  and  anxiously  to  watch  her 
erratic  steps  toward  liberty. 

In  the  middle  of  this  year  1785,  all  the  social, 
233 


234  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

political,  and  economic  conditions  of  France  were 
ripe  for  tremendous  and  awful  upheaval.  Jeffer- 
son did  not  see  this ;  nobody  saw  it.  The  conditions 
themselves  were  fairly  perceived;  but  the  terrible 
latent  explosiveness  of  them  nobody  suspected. 

The  great  nation  was  going  on  apparently  much 
as  it  had  done,  time  out  of  mind.  At  the  head  of 
it  a  king  who,  despite  some  semi-constitutional  re- 
straints, was  virtually  an  absolute  monarch.  Under 
him,  a  people  divided  into  three  classes :  the  clergy, 
called  the  First  Estate;  the  nobility,  called  the 
Second  Estate;  and  the  common  people,  called  the 
Third  Estate.  Now,  as  for  ages  past,  the  First 
Estate  and  the  Second  Estate,  the  clergy  and  the 
nobility,  formed  a  privileged  group.  They  pos- 
sessed many  powers  and  enjoyed  many  advantages 
at  the  expense  of  the  Third  Estate  or  the  common 
people.  This  was  so  to  a  degree  that  cruelly 
wronged  and  burdened  this  lowest  class.  That  is 
to  say,  most  of  it.  For  this  Third  Estate,  this  vast 
body  of  the  plain  people,  was  itself  composed  of 
three  groups,  varying  widely  in  their  rights  and  op- 
portunities. At  the  top  was  the  well-to-do  group, 
the  bourgeoisie,  chiefly  traders  and  professional 
men;  while  far  below  were  the  other  two  groups, 
the  artisans  and  the  peasants.  The  bourgeoisie 
were  not  particularly  oppressed.  As  a  rule  they 
were  free  from  some  forms  of  taxation,  and  they 
were  the  great  office-holding  class.  Probably  their 


A  CRUMBLING  THRONE  235 

main  grievance  was  more  social  than  political;  for, 
however  rich,  however  cultured  they  might  be, 
they  were  yet  looked  down  upon  by  the  nobility  as 
commoners.  In  turn,  they  looked  down  in  con- 
tempt upon  the  artisans  and  the  peasants.  It  was 
these  artisans  and  these  peasants,  the  great  bulk  of 
the  nation,  that  were  the  down-trodden  people. 

But  antiquated  and  barbarous  as  was  this  political 
and  social  system,  it  was  so  grounded  in  custom  as 
to  seem  to  defy  all  the  elements  of  change  now  long 
abroad  in  the  land.  Of  course  it  could  not  forever 
do  that,  and  acute  observers  looked  forward  to  a 
gradual  weakening  of  kingly  power  and  of  class 
privilege,  resulting  in  a  more  free  and  righteous 
government.  Everything  seemed  pointing  toward 
that  solution.  It  was  not  only  the  common  people, 
but  also  the  higher  classes  and  the  king  who  were 
awakening  to  the  need  of  reform;  and  in  one  way 
and  another  the  king  was  trying  to  better  things. 
So,  indeed,  the  matter  might  have  worked  out,  and 
liberty  have  blossomed  naturally  and  peacefully  had 
it  not  been  for  a  money  trouble. 

Louis  XVI  had  inherited  a  vast  debt  from  the 
preceding  reign ;  also  a  costly  court,  to  which  he  had 
added  an  extravagant  queen;  then  had  come  the 
enormous  expense  of  participation  in  the  American 
war.  The  result  was  the  unpleasant  truth  that  by 
this  time  France  was  on  the  eve  of  bankruptcy. 
Skilful  ministerial  turnings  and  twistings  concealed 


236  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

this  fact  for  a  year  or  so  longer ;  but  by  the  end  of 
1786  the  Government  could  scarcely  go  further 
without  such  forms  and  degrees  of  taxation  as  even 
an  autocrat  found  it  impolitic  to  attempt.  The  only 
course  left  open  to  Louis  was  virtually  an  appeal 
to  the  country  by  laying  the  state  of  the  crown 
before  the  people. 

There  were  two  old  and  disused  ways  of  doing 
this :  one  way  was  for  the  king  himself  to  name  and 
summon  prominent  subjects  to  constitute  what  was 
known  as  the  Assembly  of  Notables;  the  other  way 
was  for  the  king  to  summon  representatives  to  be 
elected  by  the  people,  and  constituting  what  was 
called  the  States-General. 

Louis  hesitated.  There  had  been  no  resort  by  a 
king  of  France  to  either  the  Assembly  of  Notables 
or  the  States-General  in  almost  two  centuries,  not 
since  the  autocratic  power  of  the  crown  had  become 
established.  The  summoning  of  either  was  fraught 
with  danger  to  royal  prerogative.  But  it  must  be 
one  or  the  other.  And  the  troubled  Louis  chose 
the  non-elective  body  as  the  less  dangerous,  and  is- 
sued his  call  for  the  Assembly  of  Notables. 

In  February,  1787,  the  Notables,  of  whom  La- 
fayette was  one,  convened  at  Versailles,  but  without 
benefit  to  the  king.  They  insisted  that  the  startling 
deficit  was  due  to  flagrant  extravagance  of  the  court 
and  to  waste  and  fraud  in  the  ministry.  Feeling 
ran  high.  Lafayette  caused  much  of  it  by  his 


A  CRUMBLING  THRONE  237 

aggressive  demand  for  reforms  instead  of  taxation. 
His  friends  were  anxious  for  him,  fearing  that  any 
moment  he  might  be  seized  and  condemned  to  the 
Bastille.  One  day  in  the  midst  of  the  strain  he 
concluded  a  speech  by  declaring  the  need  of  a 
national  representative  body. 

"What,  Monsieur!"  exclaimed  the  Comte  d'Ar- 
tois,  brother  to  the  king,  "do  you  demand  the  con- 
vocation of  the  States-General?" 

"Yes,  Monseigneur,"  replied  Lafayette,  "and 
even  more  than  that !" 

Nobody  ventured  to  join  Lafayette  in  such  a 
proposal,  and  nothing  came  of  it  then.  The  As- 
sembly of  Notables,  steadily  declining  to  help  the 
Government  out  of  its  financial  troubles,  was  soon 
politely  dissolved.  Now  the  king,  seeking  to  pre- 
serve his  prerogatives  and  pressed  by  his  financial 
needs,  resorted  to  arbitrary  measures  that  spread 
almost  revolutionary  agitation  among  the  people. 
The  situation  in  Paris  became  alarming.  Many  of 
the  public  places  of  meeting  were  closed  by  the 
Government,  and  large  bodies  of  soldiers  were 
paraded  in  the  streets.  Still  the  rebellious  spirit 
grew,  and  soon  the  demand  of  Lafayette  was  taken 
up  by  all  France.  At  length  the  king  was  forced 
to  accede  and  in  August,  1788,  he  issued  a  decree 
convoking  the  States-General  for  May  i,  1789. 

That  step  was  the  beginning  of  the  end.  All  the 
land  felt  the  weakening  in  the  despotic  grip  of  the 


238  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

king,  the  sudden  give  of  the  leash.  Indeed,  if  one 
must  attempt  the  impossible  and  try  to  fix  upon  a 
particular  time  as  the  real  beginning  of  the  French 
Revolution,  one  might  as  well  stick  the  pin  in  right 
here  as  anywhere  else. 

It  was  decreed  by  the  king  that  the  States- 
General  now  to  assemble  should  consist  of  one 
thousand  members,  one  half  to  be  chosen  by  the 
Third  Estate,  and  the  other  half  by  the  two  higher 
orders  sharing  equally.  After  all  manner  of  con- 
fusion, in  this  nation  that  knew  nothing  of  elections, 
the  delegates  somehow  got  chosen.  Those  from  the 
First  Estate  were  truly  representative  clergy;  those 
from  the  Second  Estate  equally  representative 
nobles,  Lafayette  among  them;  but  those  from  the 
Third  Estate  were  not  fairly  representative  com- 
moners, for  they  were  virtually  all  from  one 
group,  the  bourgeoisie,  scarcely  a  man  from  the 
millions  of  artisans  and  peasants. 

With  the  opening  of  May,  the  delegates  gathered 
at  Versailles, — something  over  one  thousand  of 
them,  as  the  number  had  been  increased  after  the 
first  call.  All  the  king's  city  was  agog.  Royal 
trumpeters  and  heralds-at-arms  in  velvet  and  gold 
reined  their  white  horses  at  the  street  corners  pro- 
claiming the  approaching  opening  of  the  States- 
General. 

The  bright  sun  that  rose  on  Monday,  May  4, 
found  Versailles  awake  and  waiting.  Crowds  of 


A  CRUMBLING  THRONE  239 

people  thronged  the  streets.  For  upon  this  day 
was  to  occur  the  magnificent  prelude  to  the  States- 
General,  the  ceremonial  procession  of  king  and 
queen  and  court  and  delegates  to  the  church  of  St. 
Louis,  "to  entreat  the  enlightenment  of  the  Holy 
Ghost"  for  the  great  assembly. 

Hours  passed  and  the  impatient  crowd  grew  till 
the  very  housetops  were  alive.  Mounted  pages 
rushed  recklessly  through  the  throng  in  the  name  of 
the  Grand  Master  of  Ceremonies.  From  the  royal 
parish  church  of  Notre  Dame,  lying  northward  of 
the  king's  palace,  to  the  quaint  old  church  of  St. 
Louis,  lying  to  the  southward,  stretched  two  un- 
broken showy  lines  of  French  and  Swiss  guards. 
All  along  on  both  sides  of  this  line  of  march  were 
hung  walls  of  splendid  tapestries.  Overlooking 
windows  and  balconies  were  gay  with  spectators. 
And  still  those  eager  people  did  not  know  the  full 
significance  of  the  thing  they  were  to  see,  one  of 
the  most  famous  pageants  in  history,  and  the  last 
of  its  kind.  Above  all,  they  did  not  dream  that  the 
coming  spectacle,  full  of  kingly  pomp  and  power, 
was  to  be  in  reality  but  a  magnificent  funeral  march 
for  the  doomed  last  rulers  of  the  monarchy  of 
France. 

Stand  in  the  Place  d'Armes,  if  perchance  you  yet 
may,  as  trumpets  sound  from  the  direction  of  old 
Notre  Dame.  Soon  the  head  of  the  procession 
conies  into  view  from  the  Rue  de  Dauphin.  A 


240  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

most  modest  beginning,  surely;  just  a  few  local 
priests,  followed  by  the  first  group  of  the  marching 
delegates,  each  bearing  (as  will  every  one  following 
them)  a  lighted  taper.  These  delegates  are  in  plain 
plebeian  black,  at  the  king's  command.  But  to  them, 
in  all  their  somberness,  that  color-loving  crowd 
thrills  in  wildest  ecstasy.  The  delegates  of  the 
Third  Estate!  The  representatives  of  the  common 
people!  The  heralds  of  liberty!  Over  and  over 
rings,  out,  "Vive  le  tiers  etat!"  From  housetop  to 
gutter,  "Vive  le  tiers  etat!" 

If  only  that  cry  were  springing  from  a  sane  love 
of  liberty!  But  already  madness  is  in  it.  This  is 
not  a  typical  French  throng;  it  is  largely  a  Paris 
crowd,  a  half -starved,  half -crazed  crowd;  the  sort 
of  crowd  that  is  going  to  put  horror  into  the  French 
Revolution,  and  almost  ready  now  for  the  days  of 
the  Red  Terror. 

Steadily  the  black  host  of  the  Third  Estate 
marches  on  through  wildest  acclamations.  Sud- 
denly the  somber  lines  end — and,  just  as  suddenly, 
the  acclamations.  Though  music,  brightness,  ele- 
gance (all  dear  to  the  spectacle-loving  French  heart) 
now  sweep  into  the  scene,  they  are  received  in  omi- 
nous silence.  Nobility  is  passing,  the  proud  delegates 
of  the  Second  Estate.  There  is  the  blare  of  herald- 
ing trumpets,  the  gleam  of  color,  the  glitter  of  gems, 
the  waving  of  plumes;  but  as  for  the  onlookers — 
silence.  Does  nothing  of  chill  foreboding  at  this 


A  CRUMBLING  THRONE  241 

moment  strike  through  the  ranks  of  these  doomed 
nobility  of  France,  walking  even  now  in  the  shadow 
of  the  guillotine? 

The  solemn  chanting  of  priests,  and  then,  in  long 
trailing  robes,  the  delegates  of  the  First  Estate. 
Those  high  in  the  church  are  resplendent  in  their 
magnificent  vestments.  With  incense  rising  on  the 
sunny  air,  a  silken  canopy  approaches.  Beneath  it 
is  borne  the  Sacred  Host  in  the  hands  of  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Paris.  So  in  silence  pass  the  clergy,  too. 

Now  come  the  first  renewed  greetings  of  the 
crowd — faint  enough — greetings  to  the  approaching 
king.  Attended  by  his  brilliant  court  he  comes,  a 
dazzling  figure  all  in  gleaming,  shimmering  cloth- 
of-gold,  sparkling  with  gems,  his  plumed  hat  caught 
up  with  the  flashing  royal  diamond,  the  "Regent." 
The  last  of  the  monarchs  of  the  ancien  regime,  for 
the  last  time  in  the  fulness  of  his  splendor.  And 
still  but  faintly  comes  the  cry,  "V'we  le  roil" 

A  little  back  of  the  king,  and  to  the  left,  walks 
the  queen  at  the  head  of  the  princesses  and  the 
court  ladies.  Far  more  regal  than  the  king,  she 
scarcely  needs  her  splendor  of  dress  to  play  her 
royal  part.  Never  has  she  looked  more  beautiful 
or  more  majestic.  But  this  day  beauty  and  majesty 
count  for  little.  If  the  king  has  received  scant 
greeting,  Marie  Antoinette  is  receiving  none.  What 
would  not  her  proud  heart  give  for  a  single  cry, 
"Vive  la  reinel"  But  it  does  not  come.  Instead 


242  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

are  insolent,  angry  looks.  Without  glancing  aside 
she  can  sense  the  presence  of  those  hawk-like  women 
of  the  Paris  slums ;  those  savagely  miserable  women 
who  face  famine  every  day  and  fight  in  the  bread 
lines.  How  they  press  toward  her  with  their  lean 
faces,  their  cruel  eyes,  as  though  only  the  guards 
kept  them  from  clutching  that  thing  of  gold  and 
beauty ! 

High-headed,  disdainful,  Marie  Antoinette  moves 
on.  But,  pathetically  enough,  that  look  will  soften 
in  a  moment.  As  the  procession  draws  its  magnifi- 
cent lines  across  the  great  sunny  Place  d'Armes, 
the  queen's  eyes  are  raised  to  a  balcony  of  the  Petite 
ficurie.  There,  watched  over  by  ladies  in  waiting, 
and  gently  raised  upon  soft  cushions,  is  a  wan, 
twisted,  pain-racked  little  child, — her  child,  the 
Dauphin  of  France.  His  beautiful  dying  eyes 
search  eagerly  for  his  mother,  and  light  up  at  her 
regal  coming.  And  she,  knowing  he  is  doomed, 
looks  up  with  heartbreak  in  her  smile,  and  passes  on. 

Following  the  queen  is  an  imposing  array  of 
princes  and  princesses,  nobles  and  ladies;  and  in 
their  bewildering  gorgeousness  the  procession  comes 
to  an  end.  Comes  to  an  end  in  ominous  silence. 
What  was  intended  for  an  overaweing  demonstra- 
tion of  royal  pomp  has  failed.  Everybody  knows 
that  the  crowd  has  won.  At  the  church  of  St. 
Louis  let  king  and  queen  and  court  ask  help  not  only 


A  CRUMBLING  THRONE  243 

for  the  States-General,  but  for  themselves:  they 
will  need  it. 

On  the  next  day  was  held,  in  the  immense,  im- 
posing hall  of  the  royal  Hotel  des  Menus  Plaisirs, 
the  opening  session  of  the  States-General.  To  be 
sure,  the  affair  did  not  look  like  that;  judging  from 
looks,  it  was  some  elaborate  setting  for  grand  opera. 
But  then  the  king  had  to  be  on  a  throne,  and  the 
queen  and  the  court  ladies  all  had  to  appear  in  their 
new  gowns  created  by  Madame  filoff  especially  for 
the  occasion.  Besides,  to  queen  and  court,  what 
was  it  all  but  a  grand  function  for  properly  impres- 
sing delegates  who  might  have  arrived  with  more 
enthusiasm  for  "liberty"  and  "equality"  than  was 
agreeable  to  noblesse  and  to  royalty?  Even  Louis, 
influenced  by  queen  and  court,  wholly  failed  to  ap- 
preciate or  to  meet  the  real,  the  epochal  situation. 

A  people  stirred  to  the  depths,  divided  against 
itself  and  against  its  king,  groping  blindly  but  des- 
perately from  feudalism  to  freedom,  had  sent  these 
representatives  now  gathered  before  the  throne. 
And  in  sending  them,  that  people  had  leaped  far 
beyond  what  was  in  Louis's  mind  when  he  issued 
the  call.  These  representatives,  or  most  of  them, 
were  come  to  create  a  new  France.  True,  they  had 
but  the  most  vague  and  conflicting  notions  as  to 
what  kind  of  a  France  they  were  going  to  make. 
But  "liberty"  and  "equality"  were  going  to  cut  quite 


244  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

a  figure  in  it,  despite  noblesse,  and  royalty,  and  even 
Madame  filoff. 

And  Louis,  wholly  ignoring  the  momentous  char- 
acter of  the  occasion,  read  a  pretty  speech  to  the 
delegates,  and  received  them  very  much  as  a  body 
come  just  to  help  him  out  of  his  financial  troubles. 
His  ministers  followed  in  much  the  same  vein, 
and  thereupon  the  long-heralded  States-General 
was  left  to  its  own  devices. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE  FALL  OF  THE  BASTILLE 

ON  May  6  the  Assembly  convened  for  business. 
But  not  successfully.  In  the  great  hall  were 
now  gathered  the  six  hundred  and  some  delegates 
of  the  Third  Estate.  They  found  themselves  alone. 
The  seats  for  the  delegates  of  the  other  two  estates 
were  empty.  It  was  a  situation  dramatic  and 
ominous  but  not  wholly  unexpected.  Everybody 
surmised,  and  soon  knew,  that  the  other  two  estates 
were  meeting  by  themselves  in  other  rooms  in  the 
building.  And  everybody  knew  why. 

It  was  a  grand  jockeying  for  advantage  at  the 
starting-point;  and  much  of  the  story  of  liberty  for 
France  hung  upon  the  outcome.  In  a  nutshell, — 
if  the  delegates  should  all  sit  together  and  vote  as 
individuals,  a  great  advantage  would  lie  with  the 
unprivileged  class,  as  its  representatives  outnum- 
bered those  of  the  two  privileged  classes  taken  to- 
gether; on  the  other  hand,  if  the  delegates  should 
separate,  and  sit  and  vote  by  estates,  the  advantage 
would  be  with  the  two  privileged  classes,  as  they 
could  in  their  common  interest  vote  two  estates 
against  one. 

245 


246  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

The  battle  was  on,  the  battle  of  the  classes;  and 
nothing  could  be  done  until  that  was  fought  out. 
So  fierce  was  this  contest  that  an  event  which  in 
normal  times  would  have  stirred  all  France  passed 
almost  unnoticed,  the  death  of  the  dauphin.  Hardly 
had  the  suffering  child  breathed  his  last  when  mem- 
bers of  the  Assembly,  about  their  contentious  af- 
fairs, broke  in  upon  the  king.  Grief -stricken,  he 
exclaimed,  "There  are  then  no  fathers  in  the  Tiers 
£tatf"  The  little  boy  who  now  became  dauphin 
was  as  sturdy  as  his  brother  had  been  frail,  but  the 
coming  Revolution  was  to  make  him  the  greater 
sufferer  of  the  two. 

The  days  went  on  with  the  States-General  still 
stubbornly  divided.  Who  knows  how  much  France 
later  paid  in  blood  for  that  time  of  tension  and 
mounting  class  hatred?  Though  accomplishing 
nothing,  the  delegates  of  the  Third  Estate  were  find- 
ing themselves.  The  leader  of  all  was  coming  to 
the  front.  It  was  easy  to  pick  him  out, — that 
mountain  of  a  man,  that  awful  figure,  that  creature 
of  ugliness  with  the  great  head,  the  seamed  and 
carbuncled  face,  the  fiery  energy  of  a  volcano,  and 
the  voice  of  thunder.  That  was  Mirabeau.  A  man 
brilliant  with  ability  and  eloquence ;  foul  with  base- 
ness and  disease;  often  the  man  who  best  knew 
what  to  do  for  France,  and  who  sometimes  did  it. 
He  was  not  a  commoner  but  a  noble  rejected  by 


THE  FALL  OF  THE  BASTILLE     247 

his  own  class,  who  had  secured  election  as  a  delegate 
of  the  Third  Estate. 

In  the  meantime,  the  delegates  of  the  two  privi- 
leged estates  were  sitting  in  their  separate  rooms, 
making  no  headway;  indeed,  becoming  divided 
amongst  themselves.  For  so  wide-spread  were 
liberal  views  that  many  of  the  nobles  and  of  the 
clergy  were  in  sympathy  with  the  common  people, 
and  ready  to  unite  with  their  delegates  waiting  in 
the  great  hall.  A  leader  among  these  was  Lafa- 
yette. But  they  were  hampered  by  their  instructions 
as  delegates  of  the  noblesse,  and  were  a  hopeless 
minority. 

America,  her  own  liberty  won,  was  sympathetic- 
ally watching  this  troubled  attempt  of  France  to 
attain  hers,  watching  through  the  deep-set  hazel 
eyes  of  Thomas  Jefferson,  who  every  day  attended 
these  proceedings.  The  tall  slender  figure  of  the 
United  States  Minister  became  very  familiar  to 
these  representatives  of  France.  Like  a  master  in 
the  school  of  liberty  he  seemed,  and  really  was  to 
many  of  them,  this  father  of  the  American  Declara- 
tion of  Independence. 

At  length  one  day  there  came  a  break  in  the  dead- 
lock of  the  Assembly.  There  appeared  in  the  great 
hall  of  the  commoners  three  members  of  the  clergy 
come  to  sit  with  the  Third  Estate,  just  three  ob- 
scure little  country  priests;  but  the  enthusiasm  of 
their  reception  must  have  made  them  feel  like  arch- 


248  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

bishops.  A  few  others  followed.  And  now  came 
surprising  proceedings.  On  June  17  the  slowly 
swelling  company  of  commoners  and  curates  vir- 
tually declared  itself  to  be  the  entire  States-General. 
It  ignored  the  sittings  of  the  other  two  bodies,  and 
regarded  their  members  as  simply  absent  from  their 
proper  places  in  the  great  hall.  To  fix  and  seal  this 
daring  step,  these  commoners  and  curates  adopted  a 
new  name  expressive  of  their  being  the  real  repre- 
sentative body  of  the  nation;  and  boldly  they  called 
upon  the  delegates  of  the  clergy  and  of  the  nobility 
to  come  and  take  their  places  in  "The  National 
Assembly." 

It  was  high  time  for  the  king  and  the  court,  the 
clergy  and  the  nobility,  to  see  that  France  was  get- 
ting away  from  them.  It  was  time  for  the  accept- 
ance of  the  inevitable.  Instead  came  another  of 
those  now  empty  displays  of  royal  authority. 

On  the  dull  drizzling  morning  of  June  20,  the 
velvet  and  gold  heralds  were  again  in  the  streets  of 
Versailles,  proclaiming  a  royal  session  to  be  held 
two  or  three  days  later,  and  forbidding  further 
meetings  of  the  delegates  in  the  meantime.  How 
pitifully  hollow  it  all  rang!  Almost  with  the 
heralds'  cry  in  their  ears,  plain  black -coated  figures 
came  marching  in  the  rain  toward  the  Hotel  des 
Menus  Plaisirs, — the  National  Assembly  proceed- 
ing to  hold  its  meetings  as  usual ! 

Then  came  the  first  display  of  force.     At  the 


THE  FALL  OF  THE  BASTILLE     249 

door,  National  Assembly  met  King's  Guard.  There 
was  nothing  for  umbrellas  to  do  but  to  retire  before 
bayonets.  Amid  the  jeers  of  courtiers  from  over- 
looking windows  the  commoners  with  their  few 
clerical  allies  moved  off  down  the  muddy  street. 
Some  one  had  thought  of  the  old  covered  tennis- 
court  near  by,  and  now  indignantly  bobbing  um- 
brellas were  making  for  that.  Thronging  along 
went  an  applauding  crowd  that  almost  carried  the 
delegates  into  the  great,  barn-like  building.  There, 
despite  the  king,  was  the  National  Assembly  in  ses- 
sion,— in  world-famous  session.  For  this  .was  the 
occasion  of  the  celebrated  Tennis-Court  Oath. 

The  scene  was  a  little  theatrical,  perhaps,  but 
desperately  earnest, — the  wild  surging  of  delegates 
about  their  president,  the  babel  of  cries  against  per- 
mitting the  Assembly  to  be  dissolved  by  the  king, 
the  frenzied  glances  up  to  heaven,  the  trembling 
lifted  right  hands  that  registered  the  historic  oath 
of  the  delegates  never  to  separate  until  they  had 
created  a  new  government  for  France.  And  then 
the  crowd  again,  howling  and  shrieking  its  appro- 
bation. Within  the  next  two  days  the  National 
Assembly  was  joined,  provisionally  at  least,  by 
about  one  hundred  and  fifty  more  clericals  and  by 
two  nobles. 

Then,  on  June  23,  came  the  much-heralded  royal 
session,  one  of  the  last  attempts  of  the  Bourbon 
monarchy  to  stay  the  current  that  was  undermining 


250  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

it.  A  magnificent  high-handed  venture;  a  pitiful, 
humiliating  failure.  Troops,  overaweing  troops, 
everywhere;  heralds  and  trumpeters;  great  royal 
coach  with  court  attendants;  a  being  of  gold  who 
passed  from  coach  to  throne ;  and,  in  order  to  show 
them  their  proper  place,  the  commoners  kept  out  in 
the  rain  until  everybody  else  had  entered  the  great 
hall.  The  good,  weak  king's  imperious,  empty 
words  rejecting  the  National  Assembly,  and  com- 
manding the  delegates  to  disperse  immediately  and 
to  reassemble  by  estates  in  their  three  separate 
meeting-places  next  day. 

With  such  injunction  the  king  departed.  Most 
of  the  clergy  and  of  the  nobility,  feeling  that  their 
contest  with  the  commons  was  now  won,  gave  joyful 
obedience  and  followed.  Back  in  the  dim  space 
behind  the  columns,  where  the  commons  sat,  the 
black-coated  figures  showed  uneasy  movement  and 
looked  uncertainly  at  one  another.  One  of  the  in- 
tense moments  in  history,  one  of  the  critical  ones. 
To  go  meant  the  end  of  the  National  Assembly  and 
all  that  it  stood  for;  to  stay,  after  the  king's  com- 
mand to  disperse,  meant  bald,  unthinkable  defiance 
of  royal  authority.  Moments  passed.  Rank  re- 
bellion lay  in  just  sitting  there.  Now  and  again  a 
dark  figure  half  rose,  wavered,  and  slipped  away 
along  the  wall.  But  the  main  body  held  uncertain- 
ly, not  seeming  to  know  what  to  do. 

It  was  then  that  the  hangings  behind  the  throne 


THE  FALL  OF  THE  BASTILLE     251 

parted,  and  the  master  of  ceremonies,  all  in  gold 
and  plumes  and  diamonds,  came  forward.  Armed 
with  his  white  wand  of  office,  he  spoke :  "You  have 
heard  the  command  of  the  king?"  That  simple  in- 
quiry, with  ages  of  despotic  authority  behind  it, 
might,  save  for  one  man,  have  taken  the  last  of  the 
courage  of  the  National  Assembly.  But  now,  out 
of  the  wavering,  black-coated  company,  rose  a 
mountain  of  strength,  the  huge  figure  and  mighty 
voice  of  Mirabeau:  "Go  tell  your  master,"  he 
thundered  at  the  gold  and  the  jewels  and  the  white 
wand,  "that  we  are  here  at  the  will  of  the  people, 
and  that  we  will  leave  only  at  the  point  of  the 
bayonet !" 

The  effect  of  this  speech  was  that  an  astonished 
master  of  ceremonies  obsequiously  backed  his  way 
out  of  the  presence  of  the  delegates,  as  he  was  ac- 
customed to  do  out  of  the  august  presence  of  the 
king.  So  the  long-pending,  final  break  had  come. 
The  king  was  openly  defied.  These  delegates,  re- 
formers a  few  minutes  ago,  were  rebels  now.  Their 
lives  depended  upon  the  outcome  of  the  struggle 
thus  openly  begun  between  the  new-born  National 
Assembly  and  the  age-embattled  despotism  of  the 
throne  of  France. 

Within  a  day  or  two,  still  more  of  the  clergy  and 
of  the  nobility  came  to  the  great  hall;  and  soon 
Louis  had  to  give  recognition  to  the  National  As- 
sembly by  directing  the  remainder  of  the  two  upper 


252  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

estates  to  also  unite  with  it  By  June  27  the  union 
of  the  three  orders  was  complete;  the  States-General 
was  swallowed  up  by  the  now  triumphant  National 
Assembly.  As  the  main  work  before  the  body  was 
the  drafting  of  a  constitution,  a  new  word  was  soon 
added  to  its  name,  making  it  the  National  Con- 
stituent Assembly. 

It  was  a  strange  governmental  situation  that 
France  now  entered  upon.  The  king  on  his  throne 
just  as  before,  but  with  an  anomalous,  self-created 
body  sharing  sovereignty  with  him.  The  As- 
sembly of  course  found  itself  much  divided.  There 
were  the  three  antagonistic  estate  groups  to  start 
with;  but,  as  new  principles  and  interests  prevailed, 
there  was  soon  a  considerable  regrouping,  the 
faint  beginnings  of  political  organizations.  Dis- 
regarding the  confusion  of  lines  and  names  that 
later  developed,  there  were,  as  in  all  such  cases, 
roughly  three  divisions.  At  one  extreme  were  the 
ultra  royalists,  composed  chiefly  of  bishops  and  the 
older  nobles,  and  having  at  heart  the  preservation 
of  autocracy  and  the  ancien  regime.  At  the  other 
extreme  were  the  ultra  revolutionists,  composed 
chiefly  of  radical  delegates  from  the  Third  Estate, 
and  standing  (though  scarce  consciously  yet)  for 
the  complete  overthrow  of  the  monarchy.  In  the 
wide  space  between  these  extreme  parties  were  the 
conservatives,  composed  chiefly  of  the  moderate 
delegates  from  the  Third  Estate  and  young  nobles 


THE  FALL  OF  THE  BASTILLE     253 

imbued  with  the  spirit  of  reform.  These  conserva- 
tives, virtually  including  many  delegates  called 
neutral,  constituted  a  large  majority  of  the  As- 
sembly, and  dictated  its  proceedings. 

For  a  while  the  conflict  of  authority  as  between 
king  and  Assembly  was  not  great ;  for  the  Assembly 
was  too  taken  up  with  constitution-making,  or  what 
it  thought  was  that,  to  give  much  attention  to  any- 
thing else.  Devoid  of  practical  ideas,  but  full  of 
sentimentality,  knowing  nothing  of  parliamentary 
law,  but  all  talking  at  once,  the  excited,  struggling 
delegates  were  seeking  to  make  a  constitution  out  of 
rhetoric,  perspiration,  and  the  Rights  of  Man. 

While  the  Assembly  was  thus  pleasantly  engaged, 
the  queen  and  the  court  were  persuading  the  weak 
king  to  make  another  attempt  to  rid  himself  of  this 
troublesome  body.  A  new  coup  d'etat  was 
planned.  Rapidly  troops  were  gathered,  surround- 
ing Paris  and  Versailles,  with  the  idea  of  closing 
in  and  overwhelming  the  Assembly  and  its  sup- 
porters. It  looked  as  though  all  the  struggle  that 
had  been  waged  for  weeks,  all  the  painful  little  steps 
that  had  been  taken  toward  liberty,  were  to  go  for 
naught;  as  though  the  Assembly  would  be  dis- 
solved, even  its  conservative  members  arraigned  as 
rebels,  and  France  set  back  under  autocratic  rule. 

And  such  would  have  been  the  case  but  for  one 
thing,  a  fierce,  frenzied  thing  now  to  begin  its 
terrifying  part  upon  the  stage, — the  mob!  An 


254  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

ominously  turbulent  spirit  had  developed  in  the 
capital  city.  And  on  a  hot  Sunday,  July  12,  all 
holiday  Paris  out  of  doors,  that  spirit  was  whipped 
to  fury  by  wild-fire  rumors :  the  king  was  using  the 
army  to  crush  the  Assembly  at  Versailles !  the  popu- 
lar favorite  among  the  king's  ministers  had  been 
dismissed  and  banished!  Paris  was  to  be  starved 
into  submission!  Fuming  orators  in  the  Palais 
Royal  gardens  harangued  the  excited  people.  Some- 
where a  drum  was  beating  the  call  to  arms.  Angry 
crowds  echoed  the  drum,  and  surged  through  the 
city.  The  French  Guards,  instead  of  acting  as 
police,  joined  the  maddened  populace. 

Toward  dusk  that  Sunday,  America  figured  oddly 
in  the  uproar.  A  troop  of  the  king's  cavalry  gal- 
loped into  the  city,  and  halted  with  drawn  sabers  in 
the  Place  Louis  XV.  The  mob,  enraged,  armed 
themselves  with  stones.  Just  as  a  miniature  battle 
was  about  to  begin,  a  carriage  drawn  by  sleek  bay 
horses  came  smartly  out  into  the  Place  Louis  XV 
and  straight  into  the  narrow  lane  between  the 
cavalry  and  the  crowd.  Thomas  Jefferson  in  his 
new  chariot  drove  the  length  of  that  narrow  lane, 
cavalry  and  people  staying  their  hands  until  the 
Minister  Plenipotentiary  of  the  United  States  had 
passed.  Then  the  rain  of  stones  came  and  the 
cavalry  charged. 

The  rioting  increased,  and  by  Tuesday,  July  14, 
Paris  was  hopelessly  mob-ridden.  Then  the  rabble 


THE  FALL  OF  THE  BASTILLE     255 

began  a  wild  search  for  arms.  It  carried  them  to 
the  east  end  of  the  city  where  they  came  howling  to 
a  halt  before  a  grim,  gray  castle-prison.  There 
they  were  to  make  history  that  day.  For  nearly 
four  hundred  years  that  grim,  gray  castle-prison 
had  stood  there ;  and  most  of  those  years  had  been 
years  of  infamy.  The  Bastille!  Huge,  forbidding 
fortress  of  despotism!  Monument  of  cruelty,  of 
torture,  of  living  death!  How  often  had  freedom 
been  stifled  in  its  dungeon  cells! 

Wait!  That  was  the  Bastille  of  antiquity.  In 
that  year  1789,  and  for  years  before,  this  gloomy 
pile  was  merely  a  very  respectable  state  prison. 
And  that  mob,  often  pictured  as  attacking  an  in- 
famous stronghold,  was  not  thinking  of  infamous 
strongholds  at  all,  but  simply  of  the  arms  the 
Bastille  contained.  Now  the  governor  of  the  prison 
refused  to  deliver  the  arms.  What  was  to  be  done? 
Apparently  nothing  could  be  done.  Before  the 
rabble  stretched  a  wide  moat,  then  upreared  frown- 
ing walls  a  hundred  feet  high  and  nine  feet  thick 
and  bristling  with  cannon.  However,  it  was  ar- 
ranged that  a  deputation  from  the  crowd  should  be 
admitted  to  consult  with  the  governor.  To  this 
end  a  drawbridge  was  let  down  across  the  moat. 
Many  others  besides  the  deputation  rushed  across. 
They  gained  only  an  outer  court,  and  being  virtually 
unarmed,  were  no  menace;  but  in  the  excitement  of 


256  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

the  moment  the  drawbridge  was  raised,  and  they 
were  fired  upon  from  the  prison. 

The  mob  gave  a  roar  of  rage,  and  from  that 
moment  it  was  fire  and  bloodshed.  But  it  was  the 
besiegers'  blood  that  was  being  shed.  Though  for 
hours  they  kept  up  a  desperate  firing  with  their 
small  weapons,  it  was  quite  futile;  while  even  the 
strangely  feeble  fire  from  the  prison  was  deadly. 
Two  of  the  mob  succeeded  in  gaining  a  position 
from  which  they  could  hack  the  chains  of  a  draw- 
bridge, and  at  last  it  fell,  crushing  some  of  their  fel- 
lows beneath  it.  The  wild  welter  went  howling 
over,  and  the  first  court  was  won,  though  that 
proved  to  amount  to  little. 

Indeed,  in  all  the  day's  work  virtually  no  head- 
way was  made  against  the  Bastille  from  without. 
The  fatal  blow  came  from  within.  By  evening 
the  little  garrison  was  thoroughly  mutinous,  and 
the  governor  had  lost  control.  Toward  six  o'clock 
the  mob  saw,  across  the  moat,  a  bit  of  paper  flutter- 
ing from  a  grating  in  the  massive  wall.  A  plank 
was  brought  to  span  the  moat,  and  some  daring  be- 
sieger moved  perilously  out  upon  it.  His  out- 
stretched hand  had  almost  reached  the  paper,  when 
a  shot  from  one  side  or  the  other  struck  him,  and  he 
fell  into  the  moat.  Instantly  another  man  was  in 
his  place,  and  this  time  the  paper  was  grasped  and 
brought  to  a  young  officer  who  was  among  the 
leaders  of  the  mob.  The  garrison  was  ready  to 


M  a 
**,  >-• 

a  a. 

si 


w  '* 
g 


THE  FALL  OF  THE  BASTILLE     25? 

surrender,  upon  being  assured  of  protection  from 
massacre;  but  the  little  paper  warned  the  people 
that  there  were  twenty  tons  of  powder  in  the 
magazine,  and  that  if  the  capitulation  was  not  ac- 
cepted, there  would  be  an  explosion  that  would  blow 
up  the  Bastille  and  all  its  besiegers.  Rashly  the 
young  mob  leader  cried,  "We  accept,  on  the  faith 
of  an  officer;  lower  your  bridge."  The  drawbridge 
was  lowered,  the  advance  of  the  tumultuous  mass 
rushed  roaring  over,  and  the  Bastille  had  fallen. 

But  what  about  the  safety  of  the  garrison — "on 
the  faith  of  an  officer"  ?  The  young  leader  did  all 
he  could,  but  followers  such  as  his  do  not  keep 
faith ;  nor  did  the  garrison  their  lives.  Some  were 
saved,  the  rest  fell  before  savage  slaughter.  Their 
heads  were  cut  off,  held  aloft  on  pikes,  and  borne 
in  ferocious  triumph  through  the  city.  Horrible, 
and  horribly  fitting  insignia  of  that  wild,  fierce, 
scarcely  human  power  now  entering  into  the  Revo- 
lution! Those  ghastly  heads,  almost  alive  in  their 
awful  expression  of  terror,  were  but  the  first  of 
many  doomed  to  make  gruesome  standards  above 
the  Paris  rabble. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THE  END  OF  THE  FEUDAL  SYSTEM 

MOB  power  entered  the  Revolution  that  fate- 
ful July  14  of  1789  to  stay.  Not  only  to 
stay;  to  rule!  Before  that  day  the  great  struggle 
was  waged  between  the  king  and  the  Assembly; 
after  that  day  the  dominating  force,  greater  than 
Assembly,  greater  than  king,  was  the  mob.  Its 
supremacy  over  the  king  was  shown  at  once.  All 
that  elaborate  military  coup  d'etat  which  Louis 
had  planned  for  suppressing  the  unruly  Assembly 
and  its  supporter,  Paris,  went  down  with  the 
Bastille.  After  such  a  demonstration  of  the  power 
of  the  mob,  the  king  stayed  his  hand,  which  he  now 
saw  was  too  weak,  and  bowed  before  the  storm. 

It  was  a  strange  scene  when,  on  the  day  after 
the  fall  of  the  Bastille,  the  king  of  France,  without 
pomp  or  ceremony,  with  no  attendants  but  his  two 
brothers,  entered  the  hall  of  the  Assembly  at  Ver- 
sailles, gave  full  recognition  to  that  body,  announced 
that  he  had  ordered  the  immediate  withdrawal  of 
his  troops,  and  asked  the  aid  of  the  delegates  in 
quieting  Paris.  There  was  a  great  demonstration 

258 


THE  END  OF  THE  FEUDAL  SYSTEM  259 

in  the  Assembly,  revolutionists  joining  with  royal- 
ists in  honoring  the  king;  though  inwardly  rejoic- 
ing in  the  victory  over  him  that  the  mob  had  won  for 
them.  All  the  delegates  circled  about  their 
sovereign,  making  a  chain  of  joined  hands,  and  con- 
ducted him  back  to  the  palace  amidst  rapturous 
cries  of  the  people,  "Vive  le  roil" 

Many  of  the  court  clique  now  felt  that  their  in- 
fluence with  the  king  was  over,  that  the  revolution- 
ists had  won,  and  that  safety  for  themselves  lay 
only  in  escape  beyond  the  border.  At  once  flight 
began,  led  by  D'Artois,  the  king's  brother.  The 
Assembly  sent  a  large  deputation,  headed  by  La- 
fayette, to  pacify  Paris.  They  were  received  in  the 
capital  with  a  hubbub  of  jubilation, — drums, 
trumpets,  and  flags ;  flowers,  tears,  and  kisses. 

Amid  wildest  demonstrations  Lafayette  was 
made  commander  of  recently  organized  city  troops, 
some  forty  thousand  men,  soon  to  be  known  in  con- 
nection with  similar  forces  throughout  the  country 
as  the  National  Guards.  With  his  popularity 
among  the  masses,  his  American  fame,  and  this 
command,  he  was  now  the  most  prominent  man  in 
France.  He  accepted  the  new  honor  enthusiastic- 
ally, drawing  his  sword  and  swearing  to  sacrifice 
his  life  if  need  be  in  guarding  the  cause  of  liberty. 
How  often  in  the  days  to  come  was  fate  to  be  on 
the  verge  of  demanding  that  sacrifice! 

Difficulty  and  danger  enough  were  in  those  first 


260  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

days  of  command.  Paris  was  still  turbulent,  still 
unsated.  Already  that  mania  for  hanging  victims 
to  street  lamps,  that  was  to  become  one  of  the 
terrors  of  mob  rule,  was  seizing  the  populace;  and 
its  fateful  cry,  "A  la  lanterne!"  horrible  signal  of 
death,  was  beginning  to  be  heard.  Several  times 
Lafayette  had  all  he  could  do  to  silence  and  to  de- 
feat that  cry.  Once,  perhaps  not  he  but  his  little 
son,  George  Washington,  was  the  rescuer.  "A  la 
lanterns!  A  la  lanterne!"  shrieked  a  maddened 
crowd,  as  it  seized  an  unoffending  priest  and  started 
to  hang  him  to  the  nearest  street  lamp.  Lafayette 
appeared  and  sought  to  save  the  man.  But  the 
mob  would  not  be  balked.  At  that  moment  it  hap- 
pened that  the  tutor  of  young  George  was  bringing 
him  to  see  his  father.  Lafayette  saw  them,  caught 
up  the  boy,  and  cried,  "My  friends,  I  have  the  honor 
of  presenting  to  you  my  son."  The  half -hysterical 
crowd  was  ready  for  any  new  emotion,  and  in  its 
"effusion"  over  the  son  of  Lafayette  forgot  the 
poor  priest,  who  was  quickly  smuggled  out  of  the 
way. 

Soon  after  taking  command,  Lafayette  gave  his 
troops  a  fighting  emblem  most  happily  chosen. 
Combining  the  colors  of  Paris,  red  and  blue,  with 
the  royal  color,  white,  he  formed  a  cockade  of  the 
same  tricolor  that  he  had  fought  under  with  Wash- 
ington, The  new  cockade  was  at  once  taken  up 


THE  END  OF  THE  FEUDAL  SYSTEM  261 

outside  the  army,  and  was  conspicuously  worn  by 
everybody. 

Yielding  to  what  was  virtually  the  demand  of 
Paris,  the  king  visited  the  city  on  July  17.  His 
reception  showed  a  strange  blending  of  old-time 
devotion  and  fear,  and  new-time  disdain  and  de- 
fiance. The  new-time  spirit  was  bound  to  prevail 
to  the  extent  of  forcing  Louis  to  accept  and  ratify 
all  the  recent  high-handed  doings  of  the  city. 
Ratify  them  he  must;  there  was  no  help  for  that 
now.  And  yet,  in  the  very  doing  of  it,  there  was 
open  to  him  a  last  opportunity  to  save  something 
of  royal  estate  and  dignity.  A  princely  bearing  at 
this  moment,  a  frank  acceptance  of  a  lessened  power, 
but  a  proud  insistence  upon  that  power;  in  short  a 
quick,  dramatic  adoption  of  his  new  part  as  con- 
stitutional king,  might  have  caught  the  popular 
fancy,  and  have  ultimately  saved  Louis  his  throne 
and  his  life.  But  Louis  was  not  quick,  he  was  not 
dramatic,  and  the  opportunity  passed.  Meekly  he 
did  about  as  he  was  told, — ratified  everything, 
pinned  the  new  cockade  on  his  hat,  rather  tearfully 
expressed  his  great  love  for  his  people,  and  was 
allowed  to  go.  As  he  left  Paris,  all  the  acclamations 
he  could  have  wished  attended  him,  acclamations 
whose  uproarious  joy  lay  in  his  complete  subjec- 
tion. 

However,  evil  as  was  that  July  17  for  Louis,  it 
seemed  a  glorious  day  for  France.  It  seemed  to 


262  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

open  wide  the  way  for  her  to  take  on  liberty  in  a 
peaceful,  orderly  way.  She  now  had  a  king  who 
had  fully  aligned  himself  with  the  aspirations  of 
the  people;  she  had  an  Assembly  which  was  hard 
at  work  upon  a  constitution  to  secure  to  French- 
men all  the  blessings  of  freedom.  King,  Assembly, 
and  populace  were  all  decked  out  with  the  same 
cockade,  and  the  air  was  ringing  with  joyous  cries, 
"Vive  le  roil"  "Vive  la  nation!" 

But  again  appearances  were  nothing  to  go  by. 
The  new  element  in  the  Revolution,  the  mob,  upset 
all  calculations.  The  very  fact  that  it  was  about  to 
be  given  just  what  it  wanted,  made  it  unwilling  to 
wait  for  it.  Drunk  with  the  victory  that  had 
brought  it  power,  it  was  bound  to  run  amuck.  And 
now,  not  the  mob  of  Paris  alone.  That  fall  of  the 
Bastille,  the  biggest  little  event  of  history,  was 
making  mobs  all  over  France.  While  in  reality  it 
was  not  a  case  of  conquest  at  all,  yet  the  event  was 
so  catchingly  suggestive  of  a  people's  triumph  over 
despotism,  that  it  sent  a  wave  of  similar  lawlessness 
throughout  the  land. 

[The  mob  was  everywhere;  and  everywhere  lesser 
Bastilles,  the  chateaux  of  the  feudal  lords,  were 
burning  amid  scenes  of  violence  and  slaughter. 
The  Revolution  had  got  out  of  hand;  the  ignorant 
masses  were  demented;  and  over  all  the  land  lay 
"the  great  fear."  Neither  the  king  nor  the  As- 
sembly knew  what  to  do  about  this  new  ominous 


THE  END  OF  THE  FEUDAL  SYSTEM  263 

situation.  The  Assembly  had  no  army  with  which 
to  put  down  the  reign  of  anarchy;  and  the  king 
none  that  he  could  depend  upon,  his  forces  fast 
melting  away  in  affiliation  with  the  populace. 

So  July  went  and  August  came,  and  France, 
with  both  a  king  and  an  Assembly,  was  left  to 
govern  or  to  fail  to  govern  herself.  However,  so 
many  and  so  alarming  were  the  reports  of  lawless- 
ness coming  to  the  Assembly,  that  at  last  it  was 
forced  to  do  something.  And  it  did  it  on  August  4. 

What  it  did  was  as  surprising  a  thing,  as  amaz- 
ing a  thing,  to  itself  as  to  all  France.  Most  of  that 
day  was  given  to  consideration  of  the  anarchy  and 
violence  that  gripped  the  country.  But  the  very 
aw  fulness  of  the  situation  seemed  to  preclude  deal- 
ing with  it.  Night  came;  the  Assembly  sat  hope- 
less. Hopeless,  it  was  about  to  adjourn.  Sud- 
denly a  young  noble  sprang  to  his  feet,  the  brother- 
in-law  of  Lafayette,  the  Vicomte  de  Noailles. 
What  of  importance  could  that  pampered  son  of 
privilege  have  to  say?  That  elegant  courtier, 
known  chiefly  as  a  gallant  and  the  finest  dancer  at 
the  court  of  Versailles.  What  he  had  to  say  was 
the  amazing  thing. 

After  declaring  that  the  blame  for  the  awful 
situation  lay  more  in  the  unjust  feudal  rights  and 
privileges  of  his  own  class  than  with  the  people 
who  were  attacking  them,  he  boldly  proposed  that 
the  remedy  be  the  immediate  and  total  abolition  of 


264  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

all  such  relics  of  feudalism!  The  proposition  took 
the  breath  of  the  Assembly.  Feudal  power,  for  a 
thousand  years  the  very  basis  of  French  govern- 
ment, to  be  swept  away  in  a  night,  with  a  word! 
The  delegates  gasped,  and  then  went  into  a  frenzy 
of  enthusiasm.  And  when  the  proposition  was 
supported  by  the  Duke  d'Aiguillon,  next  to  the  king 
the  greatest  feudal  lord  in  France,  a  delirium  of  joy 
and  of  renunciation  swept  over  the  Assembly. 
Noble  vied  with  noble  in  relinquishing  privilege. 
Many  beggared  themselves. 

All  night  long  the  excitement  and  the  sacrifice 
kept  up.  By  morning  more  than  a  score  of  decrees 
had  been  passed,  still  lacking  some  legal  formalities, 
but  virtually  lifting  the  most  monstrous  burden  of 
the  centuries  from  the  backs  of  the  people.  Feudal- 
ism in  France  was  dead. 

Too  bad  that  all  this  could  not  have  worked  out 
as  well  as  it  sounded.  But,  for  a  while  anyway,  it 
did  not.  As  the  news  of  that  night's  proceedings 
in  the  Assembly  spread  over  France,  the  peasants 
hailed  the  new  decrees  with  joy,  and  started  at  once 
in  their  own  way  to  put  them  into  practice.  Legal 
formalities,  executive  machinery,  none  of  these 
things  troubled  Jacques  Bonhomnte.  Feudalism 
was  dead.  Very  well ;  then  what  had  been  his  lord's 
was  his.  Feudal  dues  he  laughed  at;  his  lord's 
forests  he  cut  down,  if  only  for  the  pleasure  of 
cutting ;  his  lord's  game,  that  he  had  never  dared  to 


THE  END  OF  THE  FEUDAL  SYSTEM  265 

touch,  he  slaughtered  in  sheer,  glorious  wanton- 
ness. If  opposed  in  all  this,  Jacqifcs  was  ready  with 
stronger  proofs  of  his  emancipation,  proofs  that 
pillaged  estates  and  burning  chateaux  had  taught  his 
lord  to  fear.  To  meet  this  lawlessness  in  the 
provinces,  National  Guards,  chiefly  of  the  bourgeoi- 
sie, were  organized  everywhere,  and  in  a  measure 
they  succeeded  in  controlling  violence. 

But  just  in  proportion  as  they  did  so  they  were 
sowing  the  seeds  of  future  trouble.  The  Revolu- 
tion had  opened  with  a  fairly  united  Third  Estate 
arrayed  against  the  two  higher  estates,  or  the  privi- 
leges they  represented.  But  the  Third  Estate  was 
rapidly  becoming  divided  against  itself,  the  bour- 
geoisie growing  every  day  more  conservative  and 
the  peasants  and  the  artisans  more  radical  in  their 
revolutionary  spirit.  And  now  these  differences 
came  to  actual  conflict  as  peasant  uprisings  were 
forcibly  quelled  by  the  bourgeois  National  Guards. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

THE  MOB  AND  THE  KING 

DURING  that  summer  and  autumn  of  1789 
the  situation  in  Paris  grew  worse.  Not  that 
there  was  great  actual  disorder,  for  Lafayette  and 
his  National  Guards  kept  their  grip  upon  the  city; 
but  the  populace  was  seething  with  discontent. 
One  of  the  chief  troubles  was  that  Paris  was 
hungry.  Long  bread  lines  stretched  down  the 
streets,  and  often  with  no  bread  at  the  end  of  them. 
Even  the  wealthy  classes  were  unable  to  get  enough ; 
and  engraved  dinner  invitations  included  the  re- 
quest that  guests  bring  their  own  portions  of  bread. 
Thomas  Jefferson  saw  more  danger  at  this  time  in 
the  short  food  supply  than  in  all  the  other  elements 
of  unrest.  In  September  he  said,  "We  are  in 
danger  of  hourly  insurrection  for  the  want  of  bread, 
and  an  insurrection  once  begun  for  that  cause  may 
associate  itself  with  those  discontented  for  other 
causes  and  produce  incalculable  events."  Though 
the  insurrection  he  feared  was  to  come  soon  enough, 
he  was  not  to  see  it,  as  he  left  France  at  this  time  for 
America. 

266 


THE  MOB  AND  THE  KING        267 

Irresponsible  agitators  now  played  upon  the  worst 
impulses  of  the  hungry  populace, — rabid  leaders 
who  promised  everything,  and  had  charmingly  di- 
rect methods  for  getting  it.  Better  for  France  had 
the  Assembly  made  less  constitution  and  more  bread. 
Not  that  all  these  radical  agitators  were  dema- 
gogues or  men  of  evil  intent.  Some  were  sincere, 
zealous  lovers  of  liberty,  but  unbalanced  firebrands. 
Among  these  was  that  strange  mixture  of  scientific 
ability  and  political  fanaticism,  Jean  Paul  Marat, 
already  hysterically  demanding  the  death  of  aristo- 
crats. 

It  was  easy  for  these  agitators  to  incite  the 
hungry  populace  against  the  Government.  At  Ver- 
sailles was  bread;  the  king  and  the  Assembly  were 
there.  The  king  and  the  Assembly  should  be 
brought  to  Paris;  then  Paris  would  have  bread. 
Besides,  what  were  king  and  Assembly  doing? 
Where  was  the  millenium  the  people  had  been  ex- 
pecting? Who  could  tell  but  what  the  king  was 
even  yet  planning  vengeance  against  the  capital 
which  had  humiliated  him?  He  might  flee  the  king- 
dom and  return  with  foreign  troops  to  restore  des- 
potism. The  thing  for  Paris  to  do  was  to  gain 
permanent  control  of  the  king  by  bringing  him  to  the 
city.  And  the  Assembly  should  be  brought  with 
him. 

The  immediate  occasion  for  an  outburst  was  fur- 
nished at  Versailles.  The  king  brought  troops 


268  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

there, — not  many,  about  a  brigade,  and  probably 
only  for  self -protection.  But  instantly  Paris  was 
afire.  Troops !  What  was  the  court  plotting  now  ? 

The  situation  was  not  helped  when,  with  the  early 
October  days,  there  came  to  the  capital  rumors  of 
a  banquet  given  by  the  officers  of  the  king's  body- 
guard to  officers  of  the  new  troops ;  a  night  of  orgy 
in  which  royalist  songs  were  sung,  royalist  toasts 
drunk,  the  king's  white  cockade  worn,  and  the  na- 
tional tricolor  cockade  thrown  down  and  trampled. 
Paris  flared  up;  but  in  a  demonstration  so  strange 
it  seemed  to  have  no  relation  to  these  events  at  Ver- 
sailles. Some  say  it  was  manipulated  to  appear 
that  way. 

It  was  in  the  early  raw  morning  of  October  5. 
Paris  seemed  quiet  enough.  But  unaccountable 
groups  of  women  were  in  the  streets;  mostly 
big-boned,  gaunt  women;  excited,  loud-talking 
women.  There  was  the  sound  of  a  drum,  and 
down  a  crooked  street  came  something  like  a  troop 
of  women.  Above  the  sound  of  the  drum  was  a 
ceaseless  wailing  cry,  a  cry  for  bread.  Into  this 
main  group  flowed  the  other  groups,  and  from  every 
stairway,  shop,  and  stall,  women  came  thronging. 
Soon  the  surging  sea  numbered  some  ten  thousand, 
flanked  and  trailed  by  men  and  boys,  many  of  these 
dressed  as  women.  A  fierce  mob,  howling  and 
brandishing  weapons,  and  ever  sending  above  the 


THE  MOB  AND  THE  KING         269 

general  tumult  that  dolorous  cry,  "Du  pain!  Du 
pain!" 

After  marching  to  the  Hotel  de  Ville  and  taking 
possession  of  some  cannon  there,  this  female  mob 
suddenly  started  for  Versailles.  Off  down  the  street 
they  went  with  more  drums,  more  screeching,  and 
more  women.  They  forced  into  their  ranks  now 
every  woman,  afoot  or  in  carriage,  that  they  met; 
until  dainty  silks  and  squalid  rags,  little  satin  shoes 
and  clumping  wooden  sabots,  delicate  shrinking 
ladies  and  brawny  yelling  fishwives,  all  went  surging 
together  toward  the  royal  city. 

Lafayette  soon  had  a  large  body  of  National 
Guards  at  the  Hotel  de  Ville.  But  the  situation  was 
difficult.  The  city  was  rising;  the  troops  were  not 
dependable;  the  municipal  government  hesitated. 
Lafayette,  sitting  his  white  horse,  held  his  Guards 
in  restraint.  The  soldiers  were  for  marching  at 
once  to  Versailles;  not  so  much  to  quell  the  mob, 
as  to  get  the  king  and  to  bring  him  to  Paris.  Im- 
patient, irritable,  half -mutinous,  they  awaited  the 
decision  of  the  tall,  slender  young  man  on  the  white 
horse.  And  as  he  looked  about,  upon  scowling 
soldiery  fringed  by  another  gathering  mob,  he  knew 
that  his  authority,  indeed  his  life,  hung  by  a  thread. 
Pale  but  composed,  he  held  troops  and  mob;  and 
nothing  but  dauntless  courage  saved  Lafayette  that 
day.  More  than  once  weapons  were  aimed  at  him, 
and  more  than  once  the  cry,  "A  la  lanterne!"  came 


270  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

to  his  ears.  At  last  he  and  the  Paris  officials,  trying 
to  look  as  though  they  were  voicing  their  own  will, 
ordered  the  march  to  Versailles.  The  white  horse 
wheeled  to  the  head  of  the  line ;  the  soldiers  fell  in ; 
and  as  the  National  Guard  moved  off,  the  fickle 
Paris  populace  was  shouting  itself  hoarse,  "Vive 
Lafayette!" 

Meanwhile  the  mob  of  women  was  well  on  its 
way  to  the  royal  city.  And  what  would  Benjamin 
Franklin  have  thought,  had  he  still  been  at  the 
Hotel  de  Valentinois,  as  that  wild,  lawless  mass 
went  howling  through  Passy,  in  the  name  of  liberty ! 
Rain  was  falling  now.  It  was  coming  down  in 
torrents  by  the  time  Versailles  was  reached.  But 
rain  and  bedragglement  only  added  to  the  fury  of 
that  clamorous  sea  as  it  surged  almost  to  the  palace 
gates. 

Drawn  up  on  the  Place  d'Armes  were  troops  of 
the  king.  But  to  no  purpose.  "You  will  not  fire 
upon  women!"  And  at  that  cry  the  troops  were 
useless.  The  women  rushed  forward  and  hung 
about  the  soldiers'  necks.  It  was  fairly  opera  bouffe. 
The  crack  regiment  of  the  king,  undependable,  was 
sent  to  barracks.  It  was  well  for  Louis  that  his 
body-guards  were  back  within  the  iron  barred  court 
of  the  palace.  After  some  fighting  among  them- 
selves the  women  got  a  delegation  sent  off  to  the 
king  and  one  to  the  Assembly.  These  met  with  fair 
words.  But  the  women  could  not  eat  words.  And 


THE  MOB  AND  THE  KING         271 

hunger  gnawed,  and  night  came,  and  the  rain  fell. 
The  crowd  grew  uglier.  Weapons  were  brandished, 
and  ominous  torches  flamed  near  the  cannon. 

To  besieged  royalty  within  the  palace  comes 
hoarse  and  sinister  the  long-drawn  roar  of  the  mob. 
The  king  with  his  counselors  is  in  his  cabinet;  the 
queen  in  her  own  apartments ;  while  nobles  and  ladies 
of  the  court,  restless,  apprehensive,  roam  the  palace, 
scarcely  speaking  to  one  another,  but  tensely  lis- 
tening. To  their  ears  come  the  sounds  of  gun 
shots.  Not  many,  but  ominous.  What  is  the  king 
going  to  do?  Now  the  report  runs  through  the 
palace  that  he  has  determined  upon  flight;  again, 
that  he  has  changed  his  mind.  One  moment  it  is 
learned  that  the  royal  carriages  are  ordered;  the 
next,  that  the  mob  women  have  cut  the  traces.  It 
is  too  late  now;  flight  is  impossible. 

At  last,  out  in  the  wet  blackness,  far  down  the 
central  avenue  toward  Paris,  moving  lights  were 
to  be  seen.  Lafayette  was  coming.  With  torches 
flaring  wildly  in  wind  and  rain,  twenty  thousand 
National  Guards  marched  into  Versailles.  The  king 
received  Lafayette  gladly,  and  the  protection  of  the 
outer  posts  of  the  palace,  on  the  side  toward  the 
city,  was  assigned  to  him.  Much  better  had  the 
entire  defense  been  placed  in  his  hands.  Lafayette 
attended  to  the  disposition  of  his  troops;  and  then 
toward  morning  went  to  his  old  home,  the  Hotel 
de  Noailles,  where  he  made  his  headquarters.  No 


272  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

pleasant  thoughts  were  his.  So  this  was  what  the 
bright  dreams  of  liberty  in  France  had  come  to! 
Unholy  despotism  gone;  but  hideous,  brutal,  mob 
rule  in  its  place. 

Meanwhile,  in  the  guarded  palace,  the  royal 
family  had  retired  for  what  repose  might  be  theirs 
after  that  day  of  anxiety  and  fear.  There,  too,  all 
was  quiet,  and  no  warning  came  of  what  was 
brewing  out  in  the  darkness  and  the  rain.  Once 
rough  voices  in  the  thick  dawn  roused  the  unhappy 
queen,  raised,  her  on  white  elbow,  with  quick 
anxious  glance  from  her  velvet-hung  bed.  A  lady 
in  waiting,  heavy-eyed,  looked  from  a  window,  and 
assured  Her  Majesty  that  there  seemed  to  be  only 
some  women  of  the  mob  moving  about  as  though 
they  did  not  know  where  to  go.  The  queen  rested 
again.  And  for  the  last  time  at  Versailles. 

A  little  later,  it  all  happened.  Nobody  knows 
just  how.  That  gate  on  the  garden  side, — was  it 
ill  defended,  or  treacherously?  It  matters  not  now. 

The  mob  has  gained  the  inner  court,  is  rushing 
with  wild  cries  over  hacked  and  slain  sentinel 
guards,  and  up  the  grand  staircase  into  the  palace. 
In  fury  against  the  queen,  the  rabble  surges  toward 
her  apartments.  The  king's  body-guards  fighting, 
overpowered,  falling  back,  shout  to  waiting  women, 
"Save  the  queen !  Save  the  queen !"  Marie  Antoi- 
nette, leaping  from  her  bed,  rushes  through  a  little 


THE  MOB  AND  THE  KING         273 

doorway  beside  it;  and  even  as  she  flees  down  a 
passage  leading  to  the  king's  apartments,  brutal 
pikes  are  striking  and  stabbing  where  a  moment  ago 
she  was  lying. 

Now  while  the  king,  the  queen,  and  their  children 
gather  together  in  the  imminence  of  death,  the  loyal 
body-guards  are  barricading  a  near-by  hall  and 
making  their  last  stand  in  defense  of  the  royal 
family.  A  handful  of  soldiers,  a  heap  of  dainty 
tables  and  chairs,  against  an  oncoming  frenzied 
horde.  The  turmoil  roars  up  to  the  very  barricaded 
wall.  How  many  minutes  will  that  frail  defense 
hold  ?  But  suddenly  the  attack  ceases  and  the  com- 
motion dies  down.  Out  of  the  strange  quiet  come 
friendly  reassuring  voices.  The  barricade  is  torn 
away,  the  doors  flung  open.  There,  thanks  to 
Lafayette's  prompt  action,  stands  a  body  of  his 
National  Guards.  The  royal  family  is  saved. 

Out  in  the  court  of  the  palace  Lafayette  himself 
was  seeking  to  control  the  mob,  and  to  rescue  some 
of  the  king's  body-guards  who  had  fallen  into  its 
clutches.  Already  the  heads  of  two  of  their  com- 
rades were  being  paraded  on  pikes.  He  entered 
the  palace,  consulted  with  the  king  and  queen,  and, 
going  out  upon  a  balcony,  addressed  the  mob  to 
gain  time.  But  not  even  Lafayette  could  prevail 
against  the  demand  that  the  mob  was  shouting  now, 
— that  the  royal  family  should  be  carried  to  Paris. 


274  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

In  response  to  clamorous  calls,  Louis  appeared. 
He  signed  to  the  people,  or  they  took  it  so,  that  he 
would  go.  Now  there  were  deafening  cheers;  and 
amidst  cries  of,  "Vive  le  roil"  the  king  reentered 
the  palace.  But  the  queen?  She  hesitated  for  a 
moment,  then  stepped  bravely  out  upon  the  balcony 
before  a  mob  that  only  an  hour  ago  was  shrieking 
for  her  head.  Lafayette,  knowing  her  danger,  was 
at  her  side.  And  now  for  a  second  time  that  day  he 
risked  all  in  defense  of  the  royal  family.  Unable 
to  make  himself  heard,  he  resorted  to  quick-witted 
chivalry.  Bending  low,  he  raised  and  kissed  the 
cold  hand  of  the  queen.  An  act  that  might  well 
have  sealed  his  own  fate.  But  courage  and  chivalry 
won.  Threats  changed  to  cheers.  "Vive  la  reinel" 
shouted  the  crowd,  "Vive  Lafayette!" 

But  all  this  did  not  stay  that  other  cry,  "Le  roi 
&  Paris!"  Inevitably  and  without  delay,  to  Paris 
the  king  must  go.  Like  evicted  tenants  the  royal 
family  stepped  from  the  grand  palace  of  the  Bour- 
bons out  into  the  midst  of  the  motley,  bedraggled 
crowd,  on  into  the  great  coach  that  awaited  them, — 
the  king,  the  queen,  Madame  Royale,  and  the  young 
dauphin.  Tears  were  in  the  eyes  of  the  golden- 
haired  boy  for  the  loss,  not  of  his  royal  home,  but 
of  his  little  garden  whose  flowers  were  always  for 
his  mother.  He  would  not  be  comforted,  crying 
that  he  would  have  no  flowers  to  give  her  when 
they  returned.  "When  we  return!"  exclaimed  the 


THE  MOB  AND  THE  KING         275 

queen  with  quick  tears,  clasping  the  boy  in  her  arms. 
"Ah,  I  think  that  will  never  be!" 

Lafayette  disposed  his  troops  to  best  control  the 
mob,  and  reined  his  horse  up  beside  the  royal  coach. 
About  noon,  and  in  a  drizzle,  the  chaotic  procession 
got  under  way  and  passed  roaring  out  of  Versailles. 
Behind  it  the  magnificent  forsaken  palace,  windows 
open,  doors  swinging  in  the  wind,  seemed  left 
mutely  aghast,  staring  its  last  upon  royalty. 

On  Parisward  went  chaos;  not  raging  now,  as 
when  it  moved  out  upon  Versailles;  but  infinitely 
worse, — hilarious!  Hideously,  foully  hilarious! 
Lafayette  could  protect  the  royal  family  from 
violence;  he  could  not  from  torture.  Torture  from 
slow,  halting  progress;  torture  from  pressing  mob, 
laughing,  singing,  dancing,  almost  to  the  doors  of 
the  carriage ;  torture  from  ribald  jeers  at  the  queen, 
that  made  the  little  dauphin  cry  out  piteously, 
"Mercy  for  mamma!  Mercy  for  mamma!" 

Still  on  went  hilarity  and  humiliation  through 
drizzle  and  mud.  On  through  the  daylight,  into  the 
night.  But  at  length  into  Paris.  There,  in  re- 
doubled tumult,  mob  flowed  into  mob.  And  the 
greeting  cry  was,  "We  have  got  the  baker,  and  the 
baker's  wife,  and  the  baker's  little  boy.  Now  we 
shall  have  bread!"  For  crowning  mockery,  a  re- 
ception to  the  king  at  the  Hotel  de  Ville.  At  last 
even  that  day  came  to  an  end.  The  old  shabby  royal 


276  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

palace,  the  Tuileries,  opened  its  doors  and  received, 
for  the  first  time  in  half  a  century,  a  resident  king, 
received  him  virtually  as  a  prisoner.  Again  the  mob 
had  won. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 
FRANCE'S  PART  OF  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

FOR  a  long  time  after  the  great  upheaval  of 
October  5  and  6,  1789,  the  course  of  France 
on  her  way  to  liberty  was  a  rather  quiet  and  un- 
eventful one.  The  Assembly  soon  had  to  follow 
the  king  to  Paris.  It  established  itself  in  a  long 
plain  building  almost  on  the  edge  of  the  Tuileries 
gardens,  and  which  had  once  been  the  royal  riding- 
school,  the  Salle  du  Manege.  So  with  only  the 
palace  gardens  between  them  the  king  and  the  As- 
sembly took  up  again  their  rule  of  France.  It  was 
something  of  a  mockery, — the  king  virtually  a 
prisoner  in  the  Tuileries,  and  the  Assembly  overrun 
by  lawless  crowds  that  almost  dominated  its  pro- 
ceedings. 

As  between  themselves,  the  king  and  the  As- 
sembly kept  up  their  contest  for  sovereignty,  to  the 
constant  disadvantage  of  the  king.  More  and  more 
the  Assembly  took  on  executive  powers,  issuing  its 
own  decrees  for  governing  the  country;  and  in  the 
constitutional  monarchy  that  it  was  framing,  mon- 
archy was  being  written  small.  As  the  constitution 

277 


278  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

was  being  put  into  force  piecemeal,  each  article 
effective  as  soon  as  adopted,  Louis's  autocratic 
power  was  melting  fast.  All  along  there  was  a  sort 
of  tacit  understanding,  however,  that  the  completed 
constitution  was  to  leave  in  the  king  the  power  of 
veto;  and  accordingly  now  as  decrees  were  voted 
in  the  Assembly,  they  were  sent  to  the  king  for  his 
signature.  But  this  was  all  make-believe ;  there  was 
nothing  for  the  King  of  France  to  do  but  to  sign 
what  he  was  told  to  sign.  The  Assembly,  over  the 
signature  of  an  autocrat,  was  establishing  popular 
sovereignty.  The  whole  country  was  politically 
redivided;  conditions  of  suffrage  decreed;  new  law 
courts  established;  all  titles  abolished;  and  the 
mighty  fabric  of  the  Church  severed  from  papal 
authority  and  made  a  creature  of  the  State.  This 
last  step  was  one  of  fatal  consequences.  Most  of 
the  clergy  would  not  take  the  oath  to  become  mere 
civil  officials,  and  an  element  of  religious  war  was 
introduced  into  the  Revolution. 

The  Assembly  continued  so  to  restrain  and  be- 
little the  royal  family  as  to  make  a  strange  and 
incongruous  court  life  at  the  Tuileries.  Surrounded 
by  guards,  and  in  constantly  dwindling  state,  king 
and  queen  rather  perfunctorily  maintained  court 
ceremony.  It  was  all  but  a  shadow  of  the  past,  and 
all  with  a  tinge  of  melancholy.  The  king  no  longer 
kept  up  the  royal  hunts,  and  the  queen  absented 
herself  from  many  functions. 


FRANCE'S  PART  279 

But  the  little  dauphin  knew  less  of  change  from 
the  days  of  Versailles,  for  again  he  had  his  garden. 
It  was  in  a  sheltered  corner  down  by  the  Seine. 
And  now,  besides  furnishing  the  bouquets  for 
"mama-Queen,"  the  garden  was  serving  a  new 
purpose.  An  absorbing  interest  in  military  affairs 
possessed  the  boy.  He  had  several  small  cannon 
among  his  flowers,  and  they  were  fired  when  he 
gave  the  signal  with  his  sword.  A  famous  military 
body  of  boys,  of  which  he  was  honorary  colonel, 
often  maneuvered  in  the  garden.  They  were  little 
uniformed  miniatures  of  the  French  Guards,  and 
the  young  prince  was  proud  of  his  Regiment  du 
Dauphin.  It  was  well  for  him  to  make  the  most  of 
his  last  days  of  happiness,  for  he  was  soon  to  be- 
come the  most  pitiful  victim  of  the  French  Revo- 
lution. 

Months  went  by,  and  now  it  was  the  summer  of 
1790,  and  just  ahead  was  a  day  not  likely  to  be 
overlooked  by  Frenchmen — July  14,  the  anniversary 
of  the  fall  of  the  Bastille.  It  was  determined  to 
celebrate  the  day  in  Paris  with  a  magnificent  Fes- 
tival of  Fraternity,  to  which  delegates  from  all 
France  should  be  invited.  For  this  purpose  the 
Champ  de  Mars  was  converted  into  an  immense 
amphitheater  by  the  voluntary  joyous  labor  of 
thousands  of  Parisians  of  all  classes.  Enthusiasm 
redoubled  as  the  delegates  from  the  provinces  came 
marching  into  the  capital.  They  came  in  endless 


28o  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

troops,  many  of  them  singing  a  song  known  by  the 
words  that  Franklin  had  made  famous,  "(To  ira." 
July  14  came,  and  inauspiciously,  with  clouds  and 
rain.  But  French  enthusiasm  was  proof  against 
the  weather. 

Hundreds  of  thousands  of  persons  gathered  in 
and  about  the  great  amphitheater.  Bands  played, 
cannon  roared,  and  the  sounds  of  both  were  at 
times  drowned  by  the  mighty  voice  of  the  people  in 
vivats  to  liberty.  At  one  end  of  the  enclosed  field 
was  a  triumphal  arch,  at  the  other  end  a  pavilion 
for  the  king  and  the  Assembly,  while  in  the  center 
stood  an  immense  altar,  the  "Altar  of  the  Country," 
with  flights  of  fifty  steps  leading  up  to  it.  Despite 
the  rain,  there  were  processions,  spectacles,  dances, 
and  mock  combats.  In  the  midst  of  all  the  proceed- 
ings, Lafayette  on  his  white  horse  was  the  con- 
trolling figure.  Now  came  the  supreme  ceremony, 
the  taking  of  the  oath  to  the  still  unfinished  con- 
stitution. Two  hundred  priests  in  white  approached 
the  great  "Altar  of  the  Country"  and  placed  the 
sacred  oriflamme  of  St.  Denis  upon  it  where  waves 
of  incense  rose.  Lafayette  rode  to  the  pavilion,  and, 
dismounting,  approached  the  king.  He  received 
from  Louis  the  form  of  the  oath.  Then,  ascending 
the  many  steps  to  the  altar,  he  laid  his  sword  upon 
it,  and,  turning,  faced  the  multitude.  There  was 
a  moment  of  intense  silence  as  he  repeated  the  oath, 
vowing  to  be  faithful  to  the  nation,  the  constitution, 


FRANCE'S  PART  281 

and  the  king.  Then,  at  his  signal,  and  as  a  tri- 
colored  flame  shot  upward,  there  was  suddenly  a 
sea  of  raised  hands,  and  in  the  words,  "I  swear!" 
came  the  thundering  vow  of  the  assemblage.  Louis 
next  took  the  oath:  "I,  King  of  the  French,  swear 
to  protect  the  constitution  I  have  accepted."  As 
now  the  queen  held  out  the  little  dauphin  to  the 
people,  the  vast  throng  burst  into  wildest  jubilation, 
and  bands  and  cannon  crashed  in  to  swell  the  uproar. 
For  the  rest  of  the  day  and  throughout  the  night 
all  Paris  was  singing,  dancing,  and  feasting  in 
rapturous  celebration  of  the  downfall  of  feudalism 
and  the  birth  of  liberty. 

It  was  a  premature  jubilee.  France  had  seas  of 
blood  yet  to  wade  through  before  liberty  could  be 
hers,  and  the  false  confidence  and  optimism  of  that 
day  had  a  bad  effect.  With  the  comfortable  feeling 
that  the  cause  was  won,  and  only  a  few  details  yet 
to  be  worked  out,  a  majority  of  the  conservatives, 
both  in  the  Assembly  and  out  of  it,  became  apa- 
thetic; unfortunately  apathetic,  for,  despite  their 
failings,  it  was  to  the  conservatives  alone  that 
France  could  look  for  peaceful  reform.  At  the  same 
time  the  ultra  royalists  and  the  ultra  revolutionists 
became  increasingly  militant.  Probably  by  the  end 
of  that  year  1790  but  two  great  conservative  figures 
were  effectively  restraining  these  extreme  parties, — 
that  slender  figure  on  the  white  horse,  ideal  knight 
of  the  Revolution;  and  that  huge,  horrible  figure 


282  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

now  dragging  to  vile  death,  greatest  intellect  of 
France. 

But,  ill  supported  by  their  fellow  moderates,  not 
even  Lafayette  and  Mirabeau  could  save  the  day 
for  orderly  development  toward  liberty.  Early  in 
1791  Mirabeau  died.  The  power  for  moderation 
he  had  wielded  was  shown  by  the  fierce  radicalism 
that  was  at  once  let  loose.  Among  the  revolution- 
ists this  centered  especially  in  two  political  clubs, 
the  Cordeliers  and  the  Jacobins.  These  organiza- 
tions, at  first  but  social  or  debating  societies,  were 
now  fast  becoming  hotbeds  of  rabid  revolutionism. 

Two  men,  long  prominent  leaders  in  these  clubs, 
but  heretofore  held  in  some  restraint  by  the  over- 
aweing  power  of  Mirabeau,  now  came  rapidly  and 
ominously  to  the  front.  One  of  these  was  a  big 
brawny  man  whose  massive  features  were  distorted 
by  a  hair  lip  and  a  flattened  nose,  and  yet  who 
somehow  had  a  rugged  attractiveness;  though  not 
essentially  cruel  as  a  man,  he  at  times  was  to  prove 
inhuman  as  a  revolutionist.  That  was  Danton. 
The  other  club  leader  was  a  stiff  little  lawyer,  with 
dim  eyes,  large  spectacles,  and  a  green  coat;  he 
had  no  particular  looks,  certainly  none  in  keeping 
with  the  important  and  tragic  part  he  was  to  play; 
though  perhaps  not  a  bloodthirsty  man,  he  was  so 
fierce  a  reformer  that  the  guillotine  was  to  run  red 
with  blood  in  his  attempt  to  make  France  a  Utopia. 
That  was  Robespierre.'  These  two  men,  together 


FRANCE'S  PART  283 

with  the  yet  more  rabid  Marat,  stood  above  all 
others  as  popular  leaders. 

Among  the  royalists  boldness  now  grew.  The 
queen  was  the  chief  firebrand.  Humiliated,  threat- 
ened, insulted,  and  with  the  throne  to  which  her 
son  was  heir  crumbling  before  her  eyes,  she  felt 
the  royal  position  intolerable,  and  she  was  plotting 
inside  and  outside  of  France  to  undo  the  work  of 
the  Revolution.  The  king,  weak  and  undecided, 
was  a  troublesome  factor  in  her  schemes,  and  in 
those  of  all  his  supporters.  But  by  this  summer  of 
1791  the  royalists  were  ready  for  an  attempt  to 
break  through  restraint  and  to  play  their  master 
stroke  for  the  ancien  regime.  A  plan  was  matured 
by  which  the  royal  family  were  to  escape  from 
Paris,  the  king  was  to  join  a  supposedly  loyal  army 
on  the  frontier,  and  to  call  all  royalists  to  his  sup- 
port. Doubtless  the  scheme  included  promised  as- 
sistance from  Austria.  Elaborate  preparations  were 
made  for  the  flight  from  the  well-guarded  Tuileries. 

On  the  night  of  Monday,  June  20,  in  the  midst 
of  the  usual  throng  coming  and  going  at  the  palace, 
the  attempt  was  made.  There  were  hasty  flittings 
through  dark  passages;  quick  donning  of  disguises, 
making  the  King  of  France  a  servant,  the  dauphin 
a  little  girl,  and  a  noted  count  a  cabman;  there 
were  misunderstandings  and  mishaps  and  perilous 
moments.  But  at  length,  about  two  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  a  shabby  coach  containing  the  royal  family 


284  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

was  rolling  through  the  darkness  along  an  open 
highway,  with  Paris  just  behind.  The  driver  who, 
under  his  rough  coat  and  cabman's  hat,  was  the 
Count  de  Fersen,  drew  up  his  horses  and  peered 
about.  He  got  down  from  the  box  and  walked 
along  the  road.  With  relief  he  discovered  in  the 
gloom  an  immense  berline  or  traveling  carriage 
with  four  horses,  drawn  up  at  the  side  of  the  road, 
its  lights  out,  and  its  attendants  silent  and  motion- 
less. The  royal  family  were  quickly  installed  in  the 
luxurious  berline,  and  now  with  the  four  horses 
off  at  full  speed,  the  real  flight  began. 

The  king,  seeking  to  reach  the  northeastern  fron- 
tier, would  experience  his  greatest  danger  in  the 
first  hundred  miles  from  Paris.  For  that  distance 
there  would  be  but  the  slender  disguises  and  an 
irregular  passport  to  depend  upon.  Beyond  that 
troops  were  stationed  to  cover  the  flight  All  went 
well  with  the  fugitives,  or  so  they  thought.  As 
they  rode  on  out  of  darkness  into  daylight  their 
spirits  rose.  By  midday  the  king  was  confident 
and  imprudent.  He  even  insisted  upon  getting  out 
at  posting-stations.  Of  course  he  was  recognized. 
But  through  that  day  and  into  the  night  the  great 
berline  rolled  on  unopposed.  Toward  midnight  it 
was  approaching  the  little  town  of  Varennes.  The 
fugitives  were  elated.  Just  beyond  this  place  they 
were  to  find  strong  military  support.  But  at  this 
point  the  flight  broke  down.  At  Varennes  the  royal 


FRANCE'S  PART  285 

family  were  arrested,  when  within  a  few  hundred 
yards  of  safety.  After  being  lodged  for  a  while 
over  a  grocery  shop,  they  were  started  back  to 
Paris.  That  slow  return  journey,  with  mocking, 
insulting  crowds  pressing  about  the  berline,  was 
almost  unbearable  torture.  When  the  fugitives 
again  entered  the  Tuileries,  Marie  Antoinette's  hair 
was  white.  Now,  more  than  ever  before,  the  king 
and  the  queen  were  prisoners.  Sentinels  were  all 
about  the  palace,  within  and  without,  even  at  the 
doors  of  the  royal  chambers. 

That  flight  of  the  king  was  one  of  the  most  im- 
portant occurrences  of  the  French  Revolution.  As 
an  event  in  itself  it  was  simply  a  pitiful  fiasco;  but 
as  a  breeder  of  events  it  was  epochal.  One  of  its 
first  effects  lay  in  its  own  recoil;  what  had  been 
intended  as  a  master  stroke  for  royalism,  had  played 
into  the  hands  of  the  revolutionists.  Louis  had  been 
a  poor  enough  figure  to  rally  around  before;  he  was 
virtually  a  nonentity  now.  Indeed,  he  was  scarcely 
king  at  all ;  for  the  Assembly  assumed  his  functions, 
and  at  best  his  kingly  power  was  for  the  time  sus- 
pended. Many  of  his  stanchest  supporters  lost 
heart,  and  a  large  conservative  class  that  had  been 
hovering  on  the  •  dge  of  royalism  fell  away. 

Then,  too,  the  flight  gave  the  extreme  revolu- 
tionists unlooked-for  opportunities,  and  their  efforts 
became  more  open  and  pronounced  for  the  over- 
throw of  the  monarchy.  A  great  handle  for  them 


286  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

lay  in  the  practical  question  now  arising  as  to  what 
was  to  be  done  with  a  king  who  had  virtually  re- 
nounced a  constitution,  even  an  incomplete  one,  to 
which  he  had  sworn  allegiance.  Some  of  them  de- 
clared that  he  had  abdicated;  some  that  he  must 
be  deposed.  And  through  all  their  talk  ran  a  new 
note,  the  first  out-and-out  demand  that  France  be- 
come a  republic.  From  this  time  we  may  fairly 
enough  call  these  ultra-revolutionists  republicans. 

So  far  as  the  discomfited  and  weakened  royalists 
were  concerned,  these  republicans  had  now  a  free 
hand  to  dispose  of  both  Louis  and  the  monarchy, 
yet  they  were  to  be  foiled  by  a  sort  of  eleventh-hour 
awakening  on  the  part  of  the  conservatives.  To 
them  a  republic  was  almost  as  objectionable  as  an 
autocracy;  and,  besides,  it  would  wholly  undo  all 
the  Assembly's  long  labors  upon  a  constitutional 
monarchy.  So  aroused  did  this  moderate  party 
become  upon  this  point,  that  for  a  time  it  quite 
dominated  the  situation.  In  the  Assembly  it  de- 
feated all  efforts  to  dethrone  the  king,  even  resorting 
for  this  purpose  to  some  amusing  fictions.  One  of 
these  was  the  solemn  declaration  that  Louis  had  not 
been  guilty  of  flight,  but  had  been  "carried  off" 
by  enemies  of  the  country.  Worsted  in  the  Assem- 
bly, the  republicans  and  their  adherents  dramatically 
carried  the  contest  outside.  They  resolved  upon 
obtaining  popular  support  by  means  of  a  monster 
petition  for  the  dethronement  of  the  king. 


FRANCE'S  PART  287 

Upon  Sunday,  July  17,  1791,  a  vast  throng  gath- 
ered in  the  Champ  de  Mars,  the  great  petition 
being  placed  upon  the  "Altar  of  the  Country."  The 
Jacobins  had  their  supporters  there  from  the  slums 
of  the  city.  Disorder  arose,  and  two  men  were  torn 
to  pieces.  Upon  this,  Lafayette  with  his  National 
Guards  marched  to  the  scene.  They  were  received 
with  hootings  and  showers  of  stones,  and  a  riot 
ensued.  One  man  fired  at  Lafayette  and  was  ar- 
rested, but  the  general  set  him  at  liberty.  The  mob 
refused  to  disperse,  and  finally  was  fired  upon  by 
the  Guards.  Some  of  the  rioters  were  killed  and 
the  others  fled. 

The  conservatives  had  won  for  the  time,  any- 
way, in  the  field  as  well  as  in  the  forum.  And 
now  they  made  the  most  of  their  ascendancy  to 
finish  the  constitution  according  to  their  own  ideas. 
This  they  accomplished  by  the  beginning  of  Sep- 
tember, 1791,  and  at  once  the  instrument,  repre- 
senting over  two  years'  labor  of  the  Assembly,  was 
sent  in  formal  farce  to  the  king  for  his  sanction. 
Louis,  after  some  ten  days  of  supposedly  grave  con- 
sideration, did  what  from  the  first  he  knew  he  had 
to  do;  and  now  the  long-awaited  constitution  stood 
complete  with  the  royal  signature  and  the  royal 
oath. 

It  was  not  a  good  constitution.  It  scarcely  could 
have  been  in  the  circumstances.  Born  of 'hate  and 
fear,  and  nurtured  upon  sentimentality,  it  was 


288  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

bound  to  be  a  weakling.  Retaining  kingship  as  the 
executive  power,  it  provided  a  lawmaking  body  in 
a  single  house  of  representatives,  the  Legislative 
Assembly.  And  then  it  proceeded  to  mix  the 
functions  of  these  two  branches  of  government 
until  the  throne  was  unduly  weakened  in  executive 
power,  and  the  Legislative  Assembly  was  burdened 
with  administrative  duties  it  was  not  qualified  to 
perform.  There  were  numerous  other  defects.  But 
the  conservatives  did  not  see  them ;  or,  seeing,  knew 
that  they  saw  too  late,  and  shut  their  eyes.  They 
succeeded  in  overcoming  all  opposition,  and  in 
launching  the  new  form  of  government  amidst 
great  popular  enthusiasm.  The  precious  constitu- 
tion was  to  bring  to  France  the  golden  age.  Now, 
of  course,  Louis  was  restored  to  his  kingly  powers, 
what  there  were  left  of  them.  The  royal  family 
was  ostentatiously  given  a  deceptive  sort  of  free- 
dom; and  in  the  general  rejoicing  they  appeared  in 
public  with  some  degree  of  their  old-time  splendor. 
To  cap  this  season  of  pitifully  mistaken  rapture, 
Paris  delightedly  celebrated  "the  end  of  the  Revo- 
lution"! 

And  had  this  been  the  end  of  the  Revolution,  it 
would  have  been  a  quite  successful  one.  Already 
France  was  truly  made  over.  The  old  despotic 
monarchy  was  dead,  and  a  new  constitutional  mon- 
archy set  up  in  its  stead ;  that  evil  relic  of  the  middle 
ages,  feudalism,  was  overthrown;  the  most  unjust 


FRANCE'S  PART  289 

forms  of  privilege  and  inequality  were  abolished; 
popular  sovereignty  was  established.  The  fact  was 
that  already  France  had  acquired  all  the  liberty  she 
could  yet  either  understand  or  rightly  use.  Never- 
theless this  was  not  the  end  but  merely  a  pause  in 
the  Revolution  which  was  soon  to  sweep  on  with  a 
new  and  awful  intensity. 

In  the  meantime  no  one  was  more  deceived  than 
Lafayette  by  the  mirage  of  peace  and  prosperity. 
In  an  optimistic  fervor  he  resigned  his  command  of 
the  National  Guards  and  prepared  to  retire  to  one 
of  his  estates.  He  was  probably  even  up  to  this  time 
the  most  powerful  individual  in  France ;  and  his  re- 
tirement was  accompanied  by  many  marks  of 
honor.  Amid  the  cheers  of  Paris  he  and  the  little 
marquise  rode  out  of  the  city  gate  in  their  great  yel- 
low coach  drawn  by  four  black  horses,  the  rest  of 
the  family  and  the  servants  following. 

The  journey  was  to  be  to  Lafayette's  birthplace, 
the  mountain  stronghold,  Chavaniac,  in  the  old 
province  of  Auvergne.  It  was  golden  autumn 
weather.  All  the  way  was  triumphal,  bells  of  town 
and  village  ringing  at  his  coming,  escorts  forming 
with  bands  and  banners,  town  officials  meeting  him 
with  the  "wine  of  honor,"  admiring  crowds  pressing 
about  the  yellow  coach,  crying,  "Vive  Lafayette !" 
"Five  le  defenseur  de  la  liberte!"  Toward  the  end 
of  the  journey  they  climbed  slowly  up  into  a  strange, 
still,  mountain  country,  where  stern  castles  of  over- 


290  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

lords  frowned  from  the  heights,  and  the  homes  of 
humble  peasants  clustered  below.  The  mountain 
towns,  too,  stayed  Lafayette  with  festivities  in  his 
honor,  and  then  sent  escorts  on  with  him,  their 
banners  flying  by  day  and  by  night  their  flaring 
flambeaux  lighting  the  lava  highways. 

So  at  last  the  travelers  came  to  the  Chateau  de 
Chavaniac,  with  its  massive  gray  walls  and  its  huge 
round  towers,  a  little  village  nestling  close.  There 
was  something  almost  medieval  in  the  scene  as  the 
villagers  crowded  out  to  greet  their  hero  lord, 
bowing  low  and  even  kneeling  at  the  wayside. 

And  honors  followed  Lafayette  to  his  mountain 
home.  Soon  a  deputation  from  his  National  Guards 
in  Paris  came  to  Chavaniac  and  presented  a  hand- 
some sword  to  their  old  commander.  Its  two-edged 
blade  was  forged  from  bolts  of  the  Bastille,  and 
presented  symbolic  designs  damascened  in  gold. 
Among  these  were  representations  of  the  taking  of 
the  Bastille,  of  the  Column  of  Liberty  raised  upon 
its  site,  and  of  the  ringing  of  the  dread  tocsin.  This 
blade  was  to  form  France's  part  of  the  Sword  of 
Liberty. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

STORMING  THE  TUILERIES 

IN  that  autumn  of  1791  steps  were  taken  to  in- 
augurate the  new  form  of  government.  The 
National  Constituent  Assembly  ordered  an  election 
for  its  successor  under  the  constitution,  the  Legis- 
lative Assembly.  And  then  on  September  30  it  de- 
clared its  own  mission  fulfilled  and  passed  out  of 
existence.  The  Legislative  Assembly  convened  in 
Paris  on  October  I,  and  in  the  same  building,  the 
Salle  du  Manege,  that  had  been  occupied  by  the 
Constituent  Assembly.  Now  France  entered  upon 
her  brief  but  dramatic  career  as  a  constitutional 
monarchy. 

In  many  respects  she  started  auspiciously.  The 
French  people  were  ready  enough  to  support  even 
the  faulty  constitution,  and  so  were  a  majority  of 
the  members  of  the  Legislative  Assembly.  That 
body  soon  divided  along  party  lines.  There  was  a 
large  group  of  stanch  supporters  of  the  new  gov- 
ernment, called  the  Feuillants  or  Constitutionalists; 
and  there  were  two  smaller  opposition  groups  of 

republicans,  one  called  the  Gironde  and  the  other 

291 


292  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

called  the  Mountain.  This  left  a  large  floating 
membership,  naturally  inclined  to  vote  with  the 
Constitutionalists. 

The  two  groups  of  republicans,  or  men  of  re- 
publican sentiment,  the  Gironde  and  the  Mountain, 
were  soon  to  become  famous.  They  had  surprising 
influence,  for  a  minority,  in  the  proceedings  of  the 
Assembly,  although  they  were  always  at  war  with 
each  other.  The  chief  difference  between  them  was 
that  between  theory  and  practice.  The  Gironde — 
at  first,  anyway — was  temperate  in  its  opposition  to 
the  constitutional  monarchy;  its  members  only 
visioning  an  ideal  republic  they  were  scarcely  ready 
to  strike  for.  The  Mountain  stood  for  more  ex- 
treme measures,  its  members  soon  being  ready  to 
strike  for  any  sort  of  republic  and  do  the  idealizing 
afterward. 

Before  long  these  two  minority  groups,  with  the 
Gironde  in  the  lead,  dominated  the  Legislative  As- 
sembly. Their  peculiar  strength  was  due  to  the 
ability  of  their  leaders  and  to  their  being  supported 
from  the  outside  by  the  mob.  For  by  this  time  the 
Paris  populace  was  thoroughly  dissatisfied  with 
what  it  was  getting  out  of  the  Revolution.  Despite 
reforms  there  was  not  the  expected  betterment  in 
the  lot  of  the  poor.  The  Jacobins  and  the  Cor- 
deliers cleverly  used  the  discontented  masses  to  pack 
the  galleries  of  the  Assembly  hall.  So  the  skilful 
republican  leaders  on  the  floor,  abetted  by  a  howling 


STORMING  THE  TUILERIES        293 

mob  in  the  galleries,  forced  legislation  that  weak- 
ened the  Government  by  arraying  king  and  Assem- 
bly against  each  other. 

Such  legislation  was  likely  to  succeed  because 
most  of  the  members  were  suspicious  that  Louis 
was  not  honestly  supporting  the  new  government, 
but  was  conspiring  with  foreign  powers  to  over- 
throw it.  This  suspicion  was  indeed  well  founded. 
By  the  spring  of  1792  some  of  the  neighboring 
states  had  made  considerable  preparation  toward 
armed  intervention.  Austria  was  in  the  lead,  and 
against  her  the  Legislative  Assembly  declared  war 
on  April  20.  Soon  Prussia  entered  the  contest  as 
an  ally  of  Austria;  the  combined  armies  being  placed 
under  command  of  one  of  the  most  famous  generals 
of  the  times,  the  Duke  of  Brunswick. 

The  French  put  three  armies  in  the  field  under 
Rochambeau,  Lafayette,  and  Liickner.  Wholly 
inferior  to  the  enemy  in  numbers,  training,  and 
equipment,  they  soon  were  overcome  and  almost 
routed.  The  tidings  qf  defeat  and  of  the  unpre- 
pared condition  of  the  French  armies  frightened 
and  enraged  Paris ;  and  led  to  a  lawless  demonstra- 
tion on  June  20,  1792.  A  mob  of  several  thousand 
men  and  women,  somehow  allowed  to  enter  the 
gates  of  the  Tuileries,  crowded  into  the  palace  and 
to  the  apartments  of  the  royal  family.  There  they 
jeered  and  threatened  the  king,  at  bay  in  a  window 
recess,  and  the  queen,  in  refuge  with  the  dauphin 


294  t   SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

•  f 
behind  a  table.     There  was  no  actual  violence,  but 

for  hours  the  royal  family  were  subjected  to  hu- 
miliation and  insult,  Louis  maintaining  what  kingly 
dignity  he  could  in  a  red  liberty  cap  that  had  been 
thrust  upon  his  head. 

For  a  little  while  after  this  disgraceful  event  it 
seemed  likely  to  help  rather  than  to  hurt  the  royal 
cause.  A  wave  of  resentment  swept  over  France. 
But  nobody  did  anything  in  particular  except 
Lafayette.  At  once  upon  receiving  the  news  in  his 
camp  on  the  frontier,  he  started  indignantly  for 
Paris,  reaching  the  city  upon  June  28.  It  was  a 
brave  visit,  for  he  knew  that  where,  a  little  while 
ago,  he  and  his  fellow-conservatives  were  in  power, 
the  rabid  revolutionists  now  held  sway;  and  that 
the  Jacobins  among  them  would  stop  at  nothing 
to  put  him  out  of  the  way.  But  he  appeared  before 
the  Assembly,  condemned  the  attack  upon  the 
Tuileries,  denounced  the  Jacobins  as  the  guilty 
instigators,  and  demanded  their  punishment. 

Then  he  tried  to  plan  for  the  protection  of  the 
king  and  the  queen,  and  to  rally  about  him  enough 
of  the  old  conservative  element  to  restore  to  Paris 
law  and  order.  But  Louis  and  Marie  Antoinette 
would  accept  no  aid  from  the  man  who  had  done 
so  much  to  overthrow  the  old  autocracy;  and  few 
of  the  moderates  dared  to  align  themselves  with 
Lafayette  in  defiance  of  the  all-powerful  Jacobins. 
The  Revolution  had  leaped  all  restraint;  and  he, 


STORMING  THE  TUILERIES        295 

so  lately  the  idol  of  Paris,  was  fortunate  to  live  to 
leave  the  city.  Indeed,  he  had  scarcely  started  back 
to  his  army  when  there  was  a  demonstration  against 
him,  and  he  was  burned  in  effigy. 

The  slight  reaction  in  favor  of  the  king  died  out, 
and  the  revolutionary  movement  that  was  to  over- 
throw him  gathered  headway  again.  Its  leaders,  the 
Jacobins,  now  prepared  for  a  final  blow  to  mon- 
archy, the  taking  of  the  Tuileries  by  storm.  This 
would  be  no  small  undertaking.  The  palace  was 
something  of  a  fortress  for  those  days,  with  cannon 
and  large  supplies  of  ammunition.  In  case  of  attack 
it  would  have  a  garrison  of  some  six  thousand  men. 
But  the  Jacobins  knew  the  irresistible  power,  partly 
of  frenzied  patriots  and  partly  of  lawless  rabble,  that 
they  could  incite  to  the  attack.  By  this  time  they  had 
gained  control  of  the  city  government  of  Paris, 
and  commanded  enough  votes  in  the  Assembly  to 
shape  the  situation  to  their  ends.  The  National 
Guard  was  re-officered  to  their  liking,  and  its  ranks 
filled  with  the  lowest  characters;  the  mob  element 
was  armed  with  pikes  and  held  in  readiness.  By 
the  middle  of  July  many  members  of  the  provincial 
National  Guards  were  in  Paris  to  celebrate  again 
the  anniversary  of  the  fall  of  the  Bastille,  and  the 
Jacobins  prevailed  upon  such  of  these  as  they 
wanted  to  remain  in  the  city. 

As  the  hot  days  of  July  went  by,  everybody  felt 
the  growing  tension,  and  probably  everybody  knew 


296  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

what  was  afoot.  The  situation  grew  so  alarming 
that  friends  of  the  king  and  the  queen  urged  them  to 
fly,  and  planned  for  their  escape,  but  they  refused 
to  leave  Paris.  They  were  yet  looking,  for  their 
salvation  and  their  triumph,  to  the  coming  of  the 
armies  of  the  allies. 

About  the  end  of  the  month  occurred  two  events 
that  inflamed  the  pent-up  forces  and  precipitated 
explosion.  Into  the  city  marched  a  band  of  men, 
some  five  hundred,  that  the  Jacobins  had  sent  for. 
They  were  "the  men  of  Marseilles."  Probably 
not  the  desperate  characters  they  have  been  painted, 
more  likely  fanatical  patriots,  but  yet  men  keyed 
up  to  savage  violence.  Passing  in  by  St.  Anthony's 
Gate,  through  cheering  throngs,  they  raised  their 
famous  new  marching  song,  which  has  come  down 
across  many  battle-fields  to  our  own  time,  "La  Mar- 
seillaise." And  almost  coincident  with  this  stirring 
event  in  Paris  came  the  other  one.  The  Duke  of 
Brunswick,  at  the  head  of  the  invading  armies,  is- 
sued a  manifesto  demanding  the  restoration  of  the 
ancien  regime,  and  threatening  that  if  any  harm 
came  to  the  royal  family,  the  allies  would  destroy 
Paris.  That  proclamation  produced  just  the  oppo- 
site effect  from  the  one  intended.  It  turned  France 
in  wrath  against  her  king. 

Altogether,  the  time  was  now  ripe  for  the 
Jacobins'  great  blow  which  was  to  bring  the  down- 
fall of  Louis  and  the  French  monarchy.  By  Thurs- 


STORMING  THE  TUILERIES        297 

day,  August  9,  all  Paris  knew  that  the  blow  was 
to  fall  next  day;  and  although  that  night  the  city 
lay  quiet  enough,  it  was  not  sleeping.  It  was  wait- 
ing tensely  for  a  sound  in  the  darkness,  the  clangor 
of  church  bells  that  everybody  knew  was  to  be  the 
dread  tocsin.  It  was  a  hot,  stifling  night,  moonless, 
but  showing  the  stars.  There  by  the  Seine,  under 
their  pale  light,  loomed  the  huge  dark  bulk  of 
the  Tuileries,  glowing  windows  marking  vigil  and 
preparation.  To  the  east,  well  up  the  river,  the 
Hotel  de  Ville  was  alight.  There  members  of  the 
municipal  government  were  gathered  in  their  council 
chamber,  mostly  Jacobins  now,  though  not  all,  and 
more  than  one  hesitating  over  that  night's  work. 
In  a  room  apart  from  them  was  gathered  another 
group  of  men,  having  no  recognized  place  there, 
but  waiting.  As  the  night  wore  on,  an  unruly 
crowd  flowed  in  and  out  of  the  council  chamber, 
boisterously  interfering  with  deliberations  there. 
And  then,  as  at  a  signal,  those  waiting  men  from 
the  other  room  made  their  way  in,  broke  up  the 
regular  proceedings,  and  seized  upon  the  city  gov- 
ernment. They  were  a  body  of  desperate  leaders, 
creatures  of  Danton. 

It  was  the  coup  d'etat  of  rabid  revolutionism. 
Now  Paris  was  completely  in  the  grip  of  a  band  of 
Jacobins  of  Jacobins,  soon  to  become  infamous 
under  the  name  of  the  Revolutionary  Commune. 
Hesitation  ceased.  Midnight  quiet  was  suddenly 


298  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

broken  by  clangor  of  bells.  Then  fanatical  Paris 
burst  into  the  streets,  and  "anarchy  began."  But 
it  was  a  long  time  reaching  its  victims.  About  the 
Tuileries,  as  one  hot  hour  of  darkness  followed 
another,  all  was  quiet,  and  the  streets  stretched 
empty.  Within  the  palace  tense  figures  were  relax- 
ing, and  even  jests  passed  upon  the  failure  of  the 
tocsin  and  the  cowardice  of  the  canaille. 

Darkness  paled  and  morning  came.  With  that, 
jesting  ceased.  From  the  direction  of  the  Seine 
came  an  ominous  roar,  close  followed  by  a  tossing 
forest  of  pikes.  Soon  about  the  palace,  and  as  far  as 
the  eye  could  reach,  was  a  wild  chaos,  the  chaos  that 
was  master  in  those  days,  the  mob.  It  threw  itself 
against  the  oaken  gates  of  the  palisade  and  burst 
through.  There  was  at  first  only  a  skirmish,  the 
Swiss  Guards  charging  the  mob  and  driving  it 
shrieking  back  through  the  gates.  But  the  living 
deluge  receded  only  to  surge  forward  again;  and 
this  time  more  formidably,  the  men  of  Marseilles 
at  the  front. 

There  was  a  lull  for  a  while  as  both  sides  gathered 
for  sterner  work.  At  this  time  Louis  allowed  him- 
self to  be  persuaded  that  the  palace  could  not  hold 
out  The  western  gardens  were  still  free  of  the 
mob;  and  he  and  his  family,  the  spirited  queen 
vehemently  protesting,  slipped  away  under  the  stiff- 
set  trees  to  take  refuge  with  the  Assembly.  That 
was  a  great  mistake  according  to  the  judgment  of  a 


STORMING  THE  TUILERIES        299 

little,  sallow-faced  young  man  who  was  looking 
on  that  day.  He  was  confident  that,  had  Louis  re- 
mained and  led,  the  Swiss  could  have  held  the 
palace.  Likely  he  was  right,  for,  though  then 
scarcely  more  than  a  boy,  his  name  was  Napoleon 
Bonaparte. 

Now  the  fight  began  again.  The  mob,  headed  by 
the  men  of  Marseilles  came  on,  but  were  met  by  a 
volley  from  the  Swiss  and  a  sudden  charge.  The 
defenders  were  doing  well  when  their  commander 
received  an  order  sent  by  the  king  to  cease  firing. 
Though  not  at  once  understood  and  obeyed  by  all 
the  Swiss,  the  order  caused  confusion  and  weak- 
ness; and  by  a  bold  dash  the  mob  got  within  the 
walls.  The  rest  was  wholesale  massacre  and  the 
sacking  of  the  palace.  At  last  even  the  shrieks  of 
victims  and  the  crash  of  destruction  were  over, 
and  most  of  the  mob  was  gone.  The  quiet  of  ruined 
royal  apartments  was  broken  only  by  the  looting  and 
the  laughter  of  a  drunken  rabble,  decked  in  the 
finery  of  kings. 

Meanwhile,  the  royal  family  had  found  sanctuary, 
such  as  it  was,  in  the  hall  of  the  Assembly,  the  slow 
king  stolid,  unperturbed;  the  proud  queen  broken, 
crushed.  They  were  treated  with  cold  respect,  and 
huddled  into  a  small  back  room  or  reporters'  box 
to  await  their  fate.  And  their  fate,  as  indeed 
almost  everything  else  now,  was  to  depend  upon  that 
sejf -constituted  body  that  had  sprung  up  in  a  night, 


300  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

the  Revolutionary  Commune.  Not  content  with  its 
usurpation  of  Paris,  that  wholly  illegal  organization 
was  setting  out  by  sheer  daring  and  the  support  of 
the  mob  to  rule  France. 

Soon  the  men  behind  the  movement  came  for- 
ward, and  there  at  the  head  of  this  Commune  stood 
Danton,  Robespierre,  and  Marat.  While  the  king 
was  still  in  refuge  with  the  Assembly,  the  Commune 
demanded  that  he  be  deposed.  The  helpless  As- 
sembly temporized,  and  perhaps  saved  something  of 
its  dignity  by  merely  suspending  the  pitiful,  un- 
kingly  ruler  cooped  up  in  the  little  back  room.  But 
that  availed  Louis  nothing.  The  Commune  obtained 
custody  of  him  and  his  family,  and  imprisoned  them 
in  a  gloomy  medieval  fortress  in  Paris,  called  the 
Temple.  Virtually  Louis  XVI  had  ceased  to  be. 
And  even  plain  Louis  Capet,  which  was  about  all  he 
was  now,  would  issue  from  this  prison  only  to  go 
to  his  death. 

With  the  king  disposed  of,  and  the  constitutional 
monarchy  paralyzed,  the  Commune  grew  yet  bolder. 
Quite  under  its  dictation,  the  Assembly  now  issued 
a  call  for  the  necessary  National  Convention  to 
form  a  new  government,  and  also  appointed  a  tem- 
porary executive  council  headed  by  Danton.  From 
now  on,  through  the  days  pending  the  assembling  of 
the  Convention,  the  Revolutionary  Commune  ruled 
France. 

It  turned  its  attention  to  Lafayette.  The  general, 


STORMING  THE  TUILERIES        301 

though  he  had  lost  favor  with  the  Paris  populace, 
had  still  so  much  influence,  especially  with  the  army, 
that  the  Commune  sought  in  every  way  to  win  his 
support.  Failing  in  that,  it  caused  the  Assembly 
to  declare  him  a  traitor.  Soon  commissioners  ar- 
rived at  his  camp  with  his  dismissal  from  command. 
Lafayette  had  to  act  quickly.  For  him  and  his  staff 
officers,  who  also  had  incurred  the  enmity  of  the 
Commune,  instant  flight  was  the  only  salvation  from 
the  guillotine.  They  crossed  the  frontier  into  Bel- 
gium. And  in  that  crossing,  in  the  darkness  of 
night,  August  19,  1792,  the  world  lost  sight  of  a 
man  who  long  had  filled  the  public  eye.  He  fell  at 
once  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy ;  and  for  years  to 
come,  in  one  prison  or  another,  much  of  the  time 
no  one  knew  where,  he  was  dead  to  the  world. 

News  of  Lafayette's  escape  from  France,  but  not 
of  his  capture  by  the  enemy,  soon  reached  Chava- 
niac.  The  heart  of  the  little  marquise,  who  daily  had 
been  expecting  his  death  at  the  hands  of  the 
Jacobins,  was  lightened,  although  Jacobin  malignity 
was  now  turned  upon  the  Chavaniac  household. 
Indeed,  from  now  on  the  cruel  treatment  of  this 
family  gives  a  very  good  idea  of  the  persecution  of 
the  nobility  all  over  France.  Expecting  the  chateau 
to  be  pillaged,  Madame  de  Lafayette  saw  to  it  that 
private  papers  were  burned  and  valuables  hidden. 
She  had  the  American  sword  of  honor  buried  on 
the  estate.  Little  George  Washington  knew  where, 


302  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

and  fortunately  was  to  remember.  The  family  was 
soon  reduced  to  distress.  Their  securities  were  re- 
fused and  their  property  put  up  for  sale. 

By  the  end  of  August  the  victorious  allies  were 
advancing  into  the  interior  of  France,  and  Paris 
was  becoming  panic-stricken.  The  Commune  made 
the  most  of  the  alarm.  By  its  orders  about  three 
thousand  persons  accused  of  being  in  sympathy  with 
the  invaders,  were  arrested  and  imprisoned.  Then 
the  Commune,  through  Marat,  raised  the  cry  that 
these  royalist  prisoners  might  break  out  and  mur- 
der the  wives  and  children  of  soldiers  fighting  at 
the  front.  It  was  a  slim  pretext  for  a  barbarous 
act  that  was  being  planned.  But  it  answered.  Paris 
joined  in  the  blood-cry  of  Marat,  and  by  September 
2  the  Commune  was  ready  to  strike. 

Again  the  tocsin,  again  the  swelling  ominous  roar 
in  the  narrow  streets,  again  the  mob.  This  time 
it  surged  toward  the  prisons.  Bands  of  hired  lead- 
ers were  at  the  head,  who  broke  down  prison  doors, 
formed  hideous  mock  trial  courts,  butchered  the 
helpless  royalists  and  many  non-juring  priests,  and 
threw  their  bodies  to  the  waiting  crowd.  Ghastly 
processions  moved  through  the  streets  bearing  the 
heads  of  victims  on  pikes.  For  several  days,  among 
the  most  terrible  days  of  history,  the  killing  went 
on. 

There  was  one  place  of  comparative  safety  in  that 
murder-mad  city,  the  American  Embassy  in  the  Fau- 


STORMING  THE  TUILERIES        303 

bourg  St.  Germain.  It  was  vain  to  seek  sanctuary 
at  the  other  embassies,  for  they  were  closed. 
Gouverneur  Morris,  now  the  American  minister, 
was  the  only  foreign  representative  remaining  at  his 
post.  And  Paris  would  have  been  amazed  to  know 
what  this  stout-hearted,  quick-witted  minister  pleni- 
potentiary was  protecting.  Once  Paris  tried  to  learn, 
officials  visiting  the  embassy  to  search  it ;  but  Morris 
successfully  opposed  them.  So  Paris  did  not  know 
that  the  American  Embassy  held  a  number  of 
refugee  French  nobles,  and  also  a  very  large  sum  of 
the  royal  funds  confided  to  Morris's  care  by  the  king. 

The  mania  for  murder  spread  from  Paris  over 
all  France,  and  atrocities  of  every  sort  added  to 
the  horror  of  the  "September  Massacres."  Under 
such  conditions  were  the  elections  being  held  for 
the  National  Convention. 

It  was  just  after  those  days  of  butchery  that  an 
officer  with  a  body  of  soldiers  came  up  the  rocky 
road  to  Chavaniac.  Madame  de  Lafayette  under- 
stood, and  her  first  thought  was  for  her  children. 
Young  George  Washington  she  had  already  placed 
in  hiding  in  the  mountains,  and  now  little  Virginia 
was  hastily  concealed  in  a  deep  fireplace.  Anastasia 
insisted  upon  staying  with  her  mother.  Soon  the 
mother  was  under  arrest,  and  with  her  daughter 
started  under  guard  for  Paris.  But  the  spirited 
Adrienne  so  bravely  denounced  the  design  of  send- 
ing them  at  a  time  when  they  were  bound  to  be 


304  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

murdered  on  the  way  that  the  journey  was  stayed, 
and  in  the  end  the  order  for  her  arrest  was  re- 
pealed. They  returned  to  Chavaniac,  but  the  little 
marquise  came  saddened  with  the  information  she 
had  got  while  away  that  Lafayette  was  in  a  Prussian 
prison. 

In  that  September  the  allies  were  steadily  near  ing 
Paris,  and  by  the  middle  of  the  month  little  hope 
remained  of  saving  the  capital.  Then  suddenly  the 
tide  of  conflict  turned.  On  the  twentieth  the  invad- 
ing army  was  checked  at  Valmy,  and  it  soon  started 
upon  a  retreat  which  was  to  carry  it  back  out  of 
France. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

THE   REIGN   OF   TERROR 

ON  September  20,  1792,  as  the  battle  of  Valmy 
was  being  fought,  the  National  Convention 
met  in  Paris.  Its  membership  was  largely  the  same 
as  that  of  the  recent  Legislative  Assembly,  but  with 
a  stronger  republican  element,  there  being  gains 
for  both  the  Gironde  and  the  Mountain.  Promptly 
the  Convention  proceeded  to  create  still  another 
new  government  for  France.  It  did  this  in  a  round- 
about way,  and  not  even  a  proclamation  of  change 
was  made,  and  yet  under  its  decrees  a  monarchy  fell 
and  a  republic  arose.  A  committee  was  at  once  ap- 
pointed to  draw  up  a  constitution  for  the  "French 
Republic." 

However,  the  work  of  the  Convention  was  hin- 
dered by  struggle  for  party  control.  The  republicans 
had  won,  but  which  republicans  ?  Was  the  Gironde 
or  was  the  Mountain  to  control  and  to  shape  the 
new  republic?  The  Gironde  was  for  a  decentralized 
government,  each  department  of  France  to  have  a 
considerable  degree  of  independence;  the  Mountain 
was  for  a  strongly  centralized  government,  largely 
dominated  by  Paris.  With  these  two  parties  ar- 

305 


306  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

rayed  against  each  other,  and  between  them  a  rather 
bewildered  body  of  neutrals  voting  now  one  way 
and  now  the  other,  the  Convention  went  on  with  its 
labors. 

Every  question  that  arose  was  embittered  by  the 
animosity  of  party  spirit.  The  most  important  of 
these  questions,  of  course,  was  as  to  what  to  do  with 
Citizen  Louis  Capet,  ex-king  of  France.  In  the 
end  he  was  given  a  trial,  though  it  was  a  farce,  and 
he  was  condemned  to  death.  Even  then  it  seemed 
that  the  thing  could  not  be,  and  attempts  were  made 
to  stay  the  execution,  but  they  failed. 

In  the  dawn  of  Sunday,  January  21,  1793,  Paris 
lay  dull,  damp,  and  chill.  After  a  while  drums 
began  to  beat  in  every  quarter,  as  though  to  stir  the 
city  to  the  deed  that  was  to  be  done  that  day.  In  a 
prison  room  in  the  Tower  the  descendant  of  a 
hundred  kings  was  quietly  preparing  for  his  part. 
A  weeping  valet  was  aiding  him  to  dress.  Slowly 
Louis  drew  a  ring  from  his  finger,  his  wedding- 
ring,  and  placed  it  upon  a  mantel-shelf.  "Give  it 
to  the  queen,"  he  said,  "and  tell  her  that  I  parted 
from  it  with  pain,  and  not  until  the  last  moment." 
Now  he  received  the  sacrament,  and  with  his  faith- 
ful confessor  at  his  side  he  was  ready.  The  heavy- 
footed  guards  closed  about,  and  the  little  procession 
went  down  the  long  stone  steps  to  the  misty  court, 
which  echoed  with  the  tramp  of  horses  and  of 
marching  men.  There  a  carriage  waited.  For  a 


THE  REIGN  OF  TERROR  307 

moment  Louis  stood  there,  looking  back  at  the 
Temple.  He  had  sought  to  save  his  wife  and  chil- 
dren the  agony  of  a  last  parting,  and  his  promise  to 
see  them  again  had  not  been  kept. 

Trumpets  and  drums  proclaimed  the  passage  of 
the  king's  carriage  through  the  streets.  But  those 
streets  save  for  soldiers  were  almost  empty;  their 
houses,  too,  stood  with  vacant  windows,  blind  as 
never  before  to  the  king's  passing.  The  people  had 
hurried  ahead  for  the  greater  spectacle  that  he  was 
to  afford  that  day.  In  the  immense  square  of  the 
Place  Louis  XV  was  a  multitude.  A  rough,  high 
structure  was  in  the  midst,  the  new  instrument  of 
death,  the  guillotine,  surrounded  by  soldiers  and 
cannon.  To  the  roll  of  hundreds  of  drums  (that 
any  words  of  compassion  might  die  unheard)  came 
the  king* s  carriage,  Louis  sitting  in  simple  dignity, 
and  unafraid.  The  carriage  stopped.  The  king 
stepped  out.  Three  executioners  came  forward  to 
prepare  him  for  the  scaffold.  But  he  haughtily 
stayed  them,  and  himself  took  off  his  brown  coat 
and  his  white  waistcoat,  and  bared  his  neck.  His 
hands  were  then  bound.  He  went  steadily  up  the 
steps  of  the  scaffold.  He  started  to  speak  to  the 
sea  of  people,  but  there  was  a  signal  from  a  leader 
on  horseback  and  the  words  were  drowned  in  a 
furious  crash  and  roll  of  drums.  Now  the  king 
was  seized  and  bound  upon  the  plank.  To  the  still 
deafening  roar  of  the  drums  the  great  blade  fell. 


3o8  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

There  was  a  big,  ill- featured  man  who  was  well 
pleased  that  day,  Danton.  Casting  his  boar-like 
eyes  in  the  direction  of  the  invading  armies,  he 
exclaimed,  "We  have  flung  them  the  gage  of  battle 
in  a  king's  head!"  He  little  knew  to  what  degree 
the  challenge  was  to  be  accepted.  Ever  since  Valmy 
the  French  arms  had  been  successful.  The  flag  of 
the  republic  had  been  carried  eastward  to  the  Rhine, 
and  northward  far  into  the  Austrian  Netherlands. 
Now,  almost  as  though  in  response  to  Danton's 
defiance,  the  allies  stiffened,  regained  the  offensive, 
and  soon  subjected  the  French  to  defeat  and  retreat. 
But  that  was  not  all.  The  real,  the  literal  response 
to  that  gage  of  "a  king's  head"  was  the  sudden 
reinforcement  of  Austria  and  Prussia  by  England, 
Holland,  Spain,  and  other  nations.  Indeed,  the 
death  of  Louis  proved  the  signal  for  a  coalition  of 
all  Europe  against  France. 

By  March,  1793,  the  allied  armies  were  in  the 
field.  To  meet  such  an  array  of  enemies  France 
could  not  even  present  a  united  people.  Every- 
where faction  against  faction;  royalism  against 
republicanism;  and,  at  this  critical  moment,  came 
the  actual  armed  uprising  of  one  large  department 
against  the  republic.  The  Gironde,  well-meaning 
but  weak,  could  not  meet  the  crisis,  and  the  Moun- 
tain, less  scrupulous,  more  vigorous,  steadily  gained 
control  in  the  Convention. 

As  necessary  war  measures  it  secured  the  creation 


THE  REIGN  OF  TERROR  309 

of  two  extraordinary  bodies,  one  called  the  Revo- 
lutionary Tribunal  and  the  other  the  Committee  of 
Public  Safety.  The  Revolutionary  Tribunal  was  a 
high  criminal  court  that  was  to  judge  "traitors, 
conspirators,  and  anti-revolutionists."  Its  judg- 
ments were  to  be  final.  The  Committee  of  Public 
Safety  was  a  sort  of  executive  cabinet  composed 
of  a  few  members  of  the  Convention.  It  was  to 
act  secretly,  and  to  have  some  almost  despotic 
powers  in  administration  and  the  conduct  of  the 
war. 

In  vain  did  the  Gironde  declare  that  such  ex- 
traordinary bodies  established  "a  new  despotism 
worse  than  the  old."  It  had  to  accept  them,  and 
to  see  the  Mountain  in  full  control  of  both.  Indeed, 
the  days  of  the  Gironde's  influence  in  forming  and 
protecting  the  new  government  were  about  over. 
The  Commune  and  the  mob  joined  in  the  attack 
upon  it;  and,  on  June  2,  1793,  with  the  aid  of  an 
armed  rabble  outside,  the  Mountain  expelled  the 
Gironde  leaders  from  the  Convention. 

With  that  lawless  act  was  laid  the  ground  for  a 
new  and  appalling  phase  of  the  Revolution,  the 
Reign  of  Terror.  The  Mountain  was  now  in  com- 
plete control  of  the  Government,  and  the  situation 
it  had  to  face  was  a  desperate  one.  France,  attacked 
by  all  Europe,  and  needing  her  united  strength  for 
defense,  was  day  by  day  becoming  more  divided 
against  herself.  New  departments  were  rising  in 


3iQ  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

insurrection,  and  soon  a  civil  war  was  raging  more 
fiercely  than  the  foreign  one.  Even  where  there  was 
no  insurrection  most  of  the  better  class  of  people 
were  bitterly  opposed  to  the  Mountain. 

In  such  circumstances  that  party  now  organized 
a  government  more  despotic,  more  tyrannical  than 
the  Bourbon  monarchy  had  ever  been.  It  adopted 
a  policy  simple  and  awful,  the  maintenance  of  its 
own  supremacy  by  terror.  There  is  no  telling  how 
much  such  a  course  was  taken  for  this  party's  evil, 
vengeful  ends,  and  how  much  for  the  purpose  of 
forcibly  uniting  France  against  her  enemies.  It  is 
often  said  that  by  maintaining  a  strong  central 
government  the  Terror  saved  France.  But  nothing 
to  be  said  can  lessen  the  stigma  history  has  placed 
upon  the  authors  of  it. 

The  Mountain  had  already  at  hand  its  enginery 
of  absolutism  and  terrorism  in  that  despotic  body, 
the  Committee  of  Public  Safety,  with  its  servile 
supporter,  the  Revolutionary  Tribunal.  At  this 
time  the  Convention  changed  its  place  of  sitting, 
establishing  itself  in  the  Tuileries,  the  committee 
occupying  the  former  royal  apartments.  There, 
gathered  around  a  green  table,  that  handful  of  men 
proceeded  to  spread  a  net  of  surveillance  over  all 
France.  Its  meshes  reached  into  every  nook  and 
corner,  ready  to  close  upon  any  man  even  suspected 
of  opposing  the  Government.  And  suspicions  were 
ever  ready,  and  the  Revolutionary  Tribunal  was 


THE  REIGN  OF  TERROR  311 

kept  busy.  Its  methods  were  summary;  its  deci- 
sions, usually  against  the  prisoners,  were  final;  and 
its  sentences  always  of  death. 

One  of  the  early  victims  in  that  summer  of  1793 
was  a  young  girl,  Charlotte  Corday,  who  stabbed 
to  death  that  fiercest  of  the  terrorists,  Marat.  Some 
weeks  later,  on  an  October  morning,  a  common  cart 
containing  another  woman  approached  the  guillotine 
through  a  frenzied,  almost  uncontrollable  mob.  The 
woman  was  in  a  plain  prison  dress,  her  hair  cut  off, 
her  hands  bound  behind  her,  and  an  executioner  was 
holding  the  rope.  Little  remained  except  proud 
dignity  to  mark  this  for  Marie  Antoinette.  She 
gave  no  heed  to  the  rain  of  curses  from  every  side, 
and  calmly  mounted  the  scaffold,  which  still  stood 
on  the  Place  Louis  XV,  just  west  of  the  Tuileries. 
But,  standing  there,  she  looked  for  a  moment  out 
over  the  crowd  in  the  direction  of  her  old  palace 
home;  and  those  near  saw  her  face  whiten  and 
quiver  as  her  gaze  turned  toward  the  little  dauphin's 
garden.  Then  quietly  and  bravely  she  met  her 
death. 

So  far-reaching  and  relentless  was  the  work  of 
spies  and  persecutors  under  the  Committee  of 
Public  Safety  that  the  prisons  filled  with  "suspects," 
and  their  trial  required  many  additional  revolu- 
tionary tribunals  to  be  instituted  all  over  France. 
Soon  traveling  courts,  each  carrying  its  own  guil- 
lotine, went  up  and  down  the  country. 


312  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

Toward  the  close  of  1793  Madame  de  Lafayette 
was  again  arrested,  and  after  some  delay  was  car- 
ried to  Paris.  There  was  usually  but  one  end  to 
such  a  journey.  She  entered  the  capital  like  many 
another  member  of  the  nobility  in  those  days,  in  a 
common  chaise,  and  surrounded  by  an  insulting 
mob.  How  different  a  city  from  the  Paris  she  had 
left,  that  joyous  Paris  celebrating  the  adoption  of 
the  constitution,  and  the  "end  of  the  Revolution" ! 
Now,  as  she  was  driven  through  the  streets,  they 
were,  except  for  the  lawless  rabble,  almost  deserted. 
The  taint  of  the  guillotine  with  its  cesspool  of  blood 
was  in  the  air.  Everywhere  was  desolation,  as  of 
a  plague-stricken  city.  The  prison  was  reached; 
and  as  the  little  marquise  entered  she  knew  she  was 
but  the  last  of  her  family  to  pass  through  such 
doors.  Already  her  grandmother,  her  mother,  her 
oldest  sister,  her  uncle,  and  her  aunt  were  awaiting 
their  turn  at  the  guillotine,  and  they  had  not  much 
longer  to  wait. 

But  America  was  to  speak  and  promptly  for  the 
wife  of  Lafayette.  Gouverneur  Morris,  fearing  the 
worst,  wrote  plainly  but  tactfully  to  the  authorities 
in  her  behalf,  dwelling  upon  the  significant  fact,  "the 
family  of  Lafayette  is  beloved  in  America."  No 
reply  came,  but  as  time  passed  without  her  name 
appearing  among  those  called  to  the  guillotine,  he 
felt  there  was  hope. 

By  the  latter  part  of   1793   the  Committee   of 


THE  REIGN  OF  TERROR  313 

Public  Safety  had  the  conduct  of  the  war  well  in 
hand.  It  decreed  military  measures  that  only  such 
a  body  of  terrorists  could  have  enforced.  The  result 
was  that  France  now  had  in  the  field  fourteen  armies 
containing  a  million  men;  and  all  the  rest  of  the 
people,  down  to  the  small  children,  were  engaged, 
fear-driven,  in  supporting  and  equipping  this  im- 
mense soldiery.  Terror  was  kept  at  its  height,  and 
even  lukewarmness  in  the  work  might  lead  to 
the  guillotine.  Scores  perished  daily. 

And  the  Terror  marched  with  the  armies,  too. 
With  each  went  two  members  of  the  Convention, 
called  "deputies  on  mission,"  to  see  that  the  com- 
manding general  won  victories  or  that  his  head  paid 
the  forfeit.  A  barbarous  form  of  incentive,  but 
tremendously  effective.  The  armies  of  the  republic 
made  almost  superhuman  efforts.  Against  both  the 
allies  and  the  insurrectionists  they  were  successful. 

The  opening  of  the  year  1 794  found  France  freed 
from  invasion,  and  the  uprisings  in  the  provinces 
virtually  suppressed.  While  the  victorious  repub- 
lican  armies  marched  on  to  carry  the  war  into  the 
enemies'  countries,  the  Committee  of  Public  Safety 
proceeded  to  carry  terror  into  the  recently  revolted 
provinces.  Hundreds  of  persons  were  guillotined, 
but  that  process  proved  too  slow.  In  some  places 
the  accused,  with  or  without  trial,  were  mowed 
down  in  batches  by  cannon  or  musketry,  or  were 
loaded  into  boats  and  drowned. 


314  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

With  their  triumph  over  their  enemies,  the  Con- 
vention and  the  committee  turned  their  attention 
more  to  the  general  internal  affairs  of  the  republic. 
Their  economic  policy  was  distinctly  socialistic.  It 
manifested  itself  in  naive  attempts  to  equalize  the 
distribution  of  wealth.  Everything  that  savored  of 
the  ancien  regime  was  intolerable ;  even  the  calendar 
had  to  go.  A  new  era  was  declared,  dating  from 
the  birth  of  the  republic;  so  this  forepart  of  1794 
was  by  their  reckoning  the  Year  II. 

An  attempt  was  made,  more  by  the  Commune 
than  by  the  Convention,  to  abolish  Christianity,  and 
to  substitute  a  new  religion  called  the  Worship  of 
Reason.  Over  all  these  civil  relations  also  hung  the 
scourge  of  the  Terror.  For  so  slight  a  misstep 
branded  a  man  a  "suspect,"  and  in  the  simple  affairs 
of  daily  life  people  walked  in  the  shadow  of  the 
guillotine.  Intimate  friends  kept  apart,  fearing  to 
bring  suspicion  upon  one  another  by  word  or  look. 
Many  people  lived  hidden  in  cellars  or  in  abandoned 
houses.  Parents  hushed  their  children  at  sound  of 
heavy  footfalls  without,  and  trembled  at  a  knocking 
on  the  door.  When  the  tread  of  the  "commissaries" 
stopped  at  a  house,  no  neighbor  peered  out,  and  no 
matter  what  the  cries  or  struggles  no  one  offered 
help  or  sympathy.  Through  streets  of  houses  so 
quiet  they  seemed  deserted  the  rabble  bore  heads  on 
pikes,  and  the  death-cart  passed. 

But  now  began  an  inevitable  reaction.    With  the 


THE  REIGN  OF  TERROR  315 

bettered  military  conditions  there  sprang  up,  even 
among  some  of  the  supporters  of  the  Terror,  a 
feeling  that  the  time  had  come  for  its  moderation. 
Danton  himself,  arch-terrorist  from  the  beginning, 
now  led  in  a  movement  for  return  to  normal  govern- 
ment. At  once  the  Committee  of  Public  Safety, 
and  especially  its  leader,  Robespierre,  resolved  to 
crush  this  movement  and  Danton  with  it.  It  was  a 
struggle  of  the  giants.  But  the  great  enginery  of 
destruction,  against  which  no  man  could  stand,  was 
in  the  hands  of  the  committee,  and  on  April  5,  1794, 
Danton,  the  most  powerful  figure  of  the  Revolution, 
perished  on  the  guillotine. 

The  fall  of  Danton  left  Robespierre  supreme. 
Head  of  the  Committee  of  Public  Safety,  controller 
of  the  Commune,  idol  of  the  populace,  he  became 
virtually  dictator  of  France.  Whether  this  man 
was  a  savage  or  a  fanatic  or  both,  matters  little. 
He  was  of  that  make-up  that  enabled  him  to  provide 
the  people  of  France  with  a  new  religion  on  one 
day,  and  with  a  shorter  route  to  the  guillotine  on 
the  next.  Much  troubled  over  the  recent  establish- 
ment of  the  Worship  of  Reason,  Robespierre  caused 
the  Convention  to  abolish  it,  and  to  substitute  what 
he  called  the  Cult  of  the  Supreme  Being.  On  June 
8,  1794,  the  new  religion  was  solemnly  inaugurated 
in  the  Champ  de  Mars.  For  one  day  the  guillotine 
rested.  Robespierre  appeared  as  something  of  a 
high  priest  amidst  much  chanting  and  strewing  of 


316  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

flowers, — a  little  spectacled  lawyer  in  a  sky-blue 
coat,  and  possessing  more  autocratic  power  at  that 
moment  than  any  monarch  of  Europe. 

Close  after  this  religious  demonstration  came  an 
infamous  decree  of  the  Convention,  at  the  instance 
of  the  dictator.  It  broke  down  the  last  restraints 
upon  government  by  terror.  It  defined  new  and 
unheard  of  crimes,  making  them  punishable  by 
death;  did  away  with  counsel  for  the  accused,  and 
often  with  witnesses;  and  vastly  enlarged  the  al- 
ready murderous  powers  of  the  Revolutionary 
Tribunal.  Under  such  a  law  no  man's  head  was  safe 
upon  his  body  if  Robespierre  preferred  it  in  the 
basket  of  the  guillotine. 

And  now  the  Terror  grew  into  the  "Great  Ter- 
ror." Spies  were  everywhere,  arrests  constant, 
prisons  overflowing,  and  the  guillotine  claiming  in 
Paris  alone,  over  a  score  a  day.  Dread  lay  upon 
the  city.  The  old-time  gay  cafes  were  hushed;  the 
streets  quiet.  People  said  little — that  was  safest. 
Even  in  the  Convention,  even  in  the  Committee  of 
Public  Safety — that  was  safest.  Indeed,  terror  had 
now  turned  upon  the  terrorists.  In  all  France  no 
one  more  feared  Robespierre  than  did  these  fellow- 
members  of  the  great  committee,  these  men  who  had 
sent  thousands  to  the  guillotine,  and  thought  them- 
selves safe.  Gathered  about  the  green  table,  they 
nervously  watched  every  movement  of  that  cold, 
precise  little  man  in  the  big  spectacles ;  and,  did  they 


THE  REIGN  OF  TERROR  317 

but  know  it,  the  dim  eyes  behind  those  spectacles 
were  just  as  nervously  watching  them.  All  about 
that  green  table,  suspicion,  fear,  plotting.  All  knew 
that  the  strain  could  not  go  on,  that  the  guillotine 
must  decide  amongst  them. 

The  break  in  the  tension  came  in  the  hot  afternoon 
of  July  27,  1794,  and  upon  the  floor  of  the  Conven- 
tion. Robespierre  had  sought  to  strike  first,  by 
securing  decrees  against  some  of  his  fellow-com- 
mitteemen.  But  they  had  craftily  undermined  him. 
When  he  attempted  to  speak,  he  was  amazed  at  the 
cry,  "Down  with  the  tyrant!"  Then  all  was  con-« 
fusion  and  struggle,  lasting  for  several  hours. 
Robespierre's  voice  failed  him.  They  said  it  was 
Danton's  blood  choking  him.  In  the  end  the  Con- 
vention was  carried  for  his  arrest.  But  that  night, 
in  wind  and  rain,  the  Commune  rallied  its  forces 
to  the  support  of  the  fallen  dictator,  released  him 
from  prison,  and  carried  him  to  the  Hotel  de  Ville. 
Had  Robespierre  promptly  signed  a  call  of  the  peo- 
ple to  arms  that  his  friends  laid  before  him,  he 
might  have  been  saved.  But  he  refused.  Troops 
of  the  Convention  surrounded  the  Hotel  de  Ville. 

At  the  last  moment  Robespierre  started  to  sign 
the  call  to  arms.  It  was  too  late.  The  soldiers 
burst  into  the  room,  he  was  shot  in  the  face,  and 

the  signature  stood,  "Ro "  and  a  splash  of 

blood. 

Though  the  wound  was  not  serious,  the  man 


3i8  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

could  not  speak.  But  just  before  going  to  the  guillo- 
tine, on  July  28,  he  asked  by  signs  for  writing- 
materials.  His  request  was  denied.  There  has 
always  been  a  feeling  that  both  he  and  France  were 
wronged  by  that  denial,  that  the  fallen  dictator  took 
an  important  secret  with  him  out  of  the  world. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

END  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 

THE  death  of  Robespierre  that  midsummer  day 
of  1794  marked  a  sharp  turning-point  in  the 
French  Revolution.  The  Reign  of  Terror  ended 
as  his  head  fell.  France  took  a  long  breath  of  re- 
lief. But  she  was  left  confused  and  unsteady.  A 
strong  guiding  hand  had  suddenly  been  caught 
away,  and  there  was  nothing  at  the  moment  to  take 
its  place.  In  the  Convention,  though  an  overwhelm- 
ing majority  was  now  openly  against  the  Mountain 
and  for  return  to  regular  government,  yet  it  lacked 
leaders  and  had  no  real  working  policy  to  go  ahead 
on.  Fpr  a  while  France  drifted. 

However,  she  cleaned  house  as  well  as  she  could 
after  the  awful  time  of  turbulence  and  violence. 
And  perhaps  in  this  the  Convention  majority 
showed  a  quality  more  valuable  at  such  a  moment 
than  the  most  brilliant  party  policy  would  have 
been, — a  surprising  moderation.  While  the  odious 
laws  and  machinery  of  terrorism  were  swept  away, 
yet  vengeance  did  not  play  a  great  part,  and  the 
leaders  of  the  Convention  sought  peace  and  con- 
ciliation. The  Committee  of  Public  Safety,  the 

319 


320  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

Revolutionary  Tribunal,  and  the  Paris  Commune 
were  all  reorganized,  and,  as  agencies  of  terror, 
suppressed.  The  evil  Jacobin  Club  was  dissolved. 
The  National  Guards  were  almost  recreated,  being 
cleared  of  the  mob  element,  and  made  again  a 
middle-class  body.  The  prison  doors  were  thrown 
open,  and  thousands  of  "suspects,"  fearfully  await- 
ing their  turn  to  go  to  the  guillotine,  were  suddenly 
amazed  and  bewildered  to  find  themselves  free. 

But  among  them  was  not  the  wife  of  Lafayette. 
She  had,  doubtless  through  the  intercession  of  Mor- 
ris, escaped  the  guillotine,  but  even  the  present 
republican  leaders  were  not  willing  to  grant  her 
freedom.  In  this  summer  of  1794  Morris  was 
succeeded  as  American  Minister  by  James  Mon- 
roe, later  to  become  president  of  the  United  States. 
Both  Monroe  and  Mrs.  Monroe  continued  to  throw 
about  Madame  de  Lafayette  the  protection  of  all  the 
American  influence  they  could  safely  invoke.  And 
through  them,  as  earlier  through  Morris,  American 
money  found  its  way  to  her,  some  of  it  a  personal 
gift  from  George  Washington. 

At  length,  with  the  opening  of  1795,  her  release 
was  obtained,  largely  through  the  efforts  of  Monroe. 
From  now  on  at  every  turn  it  seemed  American  aid 
that  made  things  possible  for  this  distressed  little 
daughter  of  the  French  noblesse.  While  she  had 
been  in  prison,  Chavaniac,  the  birthplace  of  Lafay- 
ette and  in  whose  soil  lay  buried  his  American 


END  OF  THE  REVOLUTION        321 

honor  sword,  had  been  confiscated  by  the  republic 
and  sold  over  her  children's  heads.  Now  American 
money  helped  to  buy  it  back.  Madame  de  Lafayette 
had  her  plans  for  the  future  all  ready.  With  her 
two  daughters  she  would  go  to  seek  her  husband 
and  to  share  his  imprisonment.  She  would  not  dare 
to  take  her  son,  little  George  Washington,  into  the 
hands  of  his  father's  captors,  so  she  decided  to  send 
him,  accompanied  by  his  tutor,  to  his  great  name- 
sake in  America. 

But  how  were  any  of  them  to  get  out  of  France? 
Even  if  a  Lafayette  could  get  a  passport,  the  old 
Jacobin  feeling  against  everybody  of  that  name 
would  make  travel  under  it  dangerous.  Again  the 
land  that  owed  much  to  the  husband  of  this  troubled 
woman  had  a  chance  to  help.  It  was  recalled  that 
the  marquis  had  been  made  a  citizen  of  some  of  the 
American  States.  So  now  under  the  family  name 
of  Motier,  and  as  citizens  of  Hartford,  Connecticut, 
Lafayette's  family  secured  passports  under  which 
they  could  travel.  The  mother's  greatest  trial  was 
the  separation  from  her  son,  George  Washington, 
now  fourteen  years  old,  and  over  whom,  as  heir  of 
the  Lafayettes,  dangers  still  hung.  But  at  length 
partings  were  over,  and  in  their  different  directions 
went  these  members  of  the  oldest  nobility  of  France, 
furtively  traveling  as  unknown  citizens  of  Hartford, 
Connecticut. 

All  the  preparations  of  the  Lafayettes  for  their 


322  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

departure  had  been  interrupted  and  delayed  by  the 
unsettled  state  of  France,  especially  Paris.  What- 
ever moderation  after  the  Terror  was  shown  by  the 
Convention,  its  example  was  not  being  followed  by 
the  people.  Intense  hostility  broke  out  everywhere 
against  all  who  had  furthered  those  days  of  horror. 
Well-to-do  bourgeoisie  and  "aristocrats"  whom  the 
Jacobins  had  persecuted,  now  turned  the  tables, 
many  of  them  appearing  in  the  streets  with  clubs 
that  frequently  found  their  way  to  Jacobin  skulls. 
Even  royalists  who  had  been  in  hiding  from  the 
guillotine  now  came  forth  and  joined  in  the  war 
upon  terrorists. 

It  was  inevitable  that  this  bitter  hostility  among 
the  people  should  make  trouble  for  the  Convention 
which  was  trying  to  govern  so  divided  a  France. 
On  the  one  hand,  the  harried  Jacobins,  who  were 
still  by  no  means  powerless,  were  preparing  the 
most  desperate  means  to  regain  control  of  the  Gov- 
ernment ;  on  the  other  hand,  the  royalists  saw  their 
opportunity  in  this  widespread  reaction  against 
terror  under  the  republic,  and  they  were  bending 
every  energy  to  sweep  it  into  a  movement  for  a  re- 
turn to  the  monarchy.  The  Convention  consistently 
sought  to  hold  down  both  these  extreme  elements, 
and  to  preserve  the  young  republic  from  both  ter- 
rorism and  royalism. 

As  the  year  1795  opened,  the  Jacobins  were  es- 
pecially active.  They  resorted  to  their  old  tactics 


END  OF  THE  REVOLUTION        323 

of  using  the  mob,  and  precipitated  serious  attacks 
upon  the  Convention.  There  were  the  old  time 
scenes :  the  fierce  howling  rabble,  the  brandished 
pikes,  the  lawgivers  bearded  in  their  hall.  But  now 
a  new  element  entered  in.  Now  the  soldiery,  instead 
of  fraternizing  with  the  mob,  was  on  the  side  of  the 
Government,  and  the  lawless  attacks  were  quickly 
suppressed.  The  idle  guillotine  was  put  to  work 
again  for  a  little  while,  and  a  number  of  the  insur- 
rectionary leaders  perished. 

But  the  Convention  had  no  sooner  mastered  the 
Jacobins  than  it  had  to  face  serious  demonstrations 
on  the  part  of  the  royalists.  In  some  parts  of 
France  they  fanned  the  spirit  of  vengeance  against 
the  former  terrorists  until  no  Jacobin  was  safe. 
Aided  by  many  of  the  bourgeoisie  they  inaugurated, 
particularly  in  southern  France,  a  new  reign  of 
violence  called  the  "White  Terror."  For  a  while 
there  was  great  slaughter  and  all  the  barbarities  of 
the  "September  Massacres,"  but  with  the  former 
butchers  now  the  victims. 

Royalist  thoughts  turned  more  and  more  to  that 
boy  prisoner  in  the  Temple,  whom  they  considered 
as  Louis  XVII.  Was  not  the  time  ripe  for  a  great 
uprising  that  would  crush  the  republic,  restore  the 
monarchy,  and  place  this  son  of  the  Bourbons  on 
the  throne?  Such  a  project  was  not  visionary.  It 
might  well  have  succeeded  but  for  one  thing, — a 
thing  so  inhuman  as  to  be  almost  unbelievable  even 


324  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

in  that  reign  of  inhumanity,  the  French  Revolution. 
Those  royalists  were  thinking  of  the  bright,  beauti- 
ful dauphin  who  had  been  consigned  to  the  Temple 
with  his  royal  parents, — too  sturdy  a  little  fellow  to 
have  been  seriously  affected  by  his  long  imprison- 
ment. They  did  not  know  that  for  a  good  while 
the  leaders  of  the  republic  had  been  purposely, 
systematically  killing  their  "little  king." 

It  all  began  some  time  before  the  execution  of 
Marie  Antoinette.  One  tragic  night  in  the  gloomy 
prison  they  took  the  boy  away  from  her.  "Austrian 
tigress"  she  surely  was  that  night,  but  vainly.  The 
child  was  put  under  a  low,  brutal  keeper  in  another 
part  of  the  prison.  One  after  another  the  essentials 
of  comfort,  of  decency,  were  denied  him.  He  was 
finally  put  in  a  miserable  room,  without  light  or 
ventilation;  its  iron-barred  door  was  locked  and 
sealed.  Child  of  sunshine  and  royal  gardens,  of 
tender  nurture  and  care,  of  bright,  sensitive  mind 
and  passionately  loving  heart,  caged  like  a  wild 
animal  alone  in  the  quiet  and  the  dark.  For  months 
no  one  even  entered  that  cell  either  to  care  for  him 
.  or  for  it.  They  had  no  care.  Coarse,  dirty  food 
was  shoved  through  a  grating  in  the  door  by  at- 
tendants who  were  forbidden  to  speak;  forbidden 
even  to  reply  should  a  little  timid  voice  come  out 
from  that  stagnant  foulness  and  darkness. 

It  was  only  now,  since  the  Terror,  that  the  barred 
and  sealed  door  of  that  awful  room  was  opened. 


THE  TEMPLE 
From  an  old  print 


END  OF  THE  REVOLUTION        325 

And  what  came  out?  A  loathsome,  misshapen 
little  creature,  nearly  naked,  covered  with  sores  and 
vermin,  shivering  with  terror,  almost  speechless, — 
this  the  sturdy,  vivid  little  Dauphin,  "born  gay." 
He  begged  to  see  his  mother,  whom  he  supposed  still 
a  prisoner  somewhere  in  the  Temple.  They  did  not 
tell  him.  Even  now  there  was  no  intention  of 
saving  the  boy,  were  saving  possible.  Heir  to  the 
throne  of  France,  he  was  in  the  way  of  the  republic. 
New  keepers  were  appointed  for  him  and  better 
surroundings,  but  medical  aid  was  denied  until  the 
republic  knew  that  physicians  could  serve  but  to  cer- 
tify the  inevitable  end. 

In  the  meantime  the  new  attendants  gave  the 
scant  care  that  they  dared,  the  child  at  first  afraid 
of  their  kindness.  His  happiness  over  four  little 
pots  of  flowers  brought  the  first  tears  to  his  eyes. 
They  talked  to  him  of  his  garden  at  the  Tuileries 
and  of  his  command  of  the  Royal  Dauphin  regi- 
ment. The  dimmed  eyes  brightened.  "Did  you 
see  me?"  he  asked  eagerly.  "Did  you  see  me  with 
my  sword?"  But  soon  even  memories  could  not 
cheer.  The  boy  was  very  ill.  The  hideous  darkened 
room  had  done  its  work.  With  his  failing  strength 
he  called  for  his  mother.  Mercifully  now  they  did 
not  tell  him.  On  the  afternoon  of  Monday,  June 
8,  i?95>  whatever  of  menace  to  the  great  French 
Republic  lay  in  a  twisted,  rickety  little  sufferer  in 
the  Temple,  came  to  an  end.  But  upon  that  repub- 


326  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

lie  was  fixed  almost  the  blackest  stain  that  history 
knows  of  political  crime. 

There  was  open  elation  shown  by  the  republicans 
upon  the  news  of  the  death  in  the  Temple.  To  the 
royalists  it  came  as  a  hard  blow.  But  the  Comte 
de  Provence,  brother  of  Louis  XVI,  succeeded  as 
claimant  to  the  French  throne,  and  the  projects  for 
restoring  the  monarchy  went  on.  That  summer  the 
royalists  were  aided  by  an  expedition  from  England 
including  many  French  emigres.  It  was  a  brave 
showing  of  tall  ships  that  approached  the  French 
coast  and  sailed  into  Quiberon  Bay.  The  forces 
were  landed  on  a  sandy  point  not  far  from  where, 
so  long  before,  Franklin  had  landed  one  winter 
night.  There  was  good  prospect  of  success.  That 
coastal  country  was  already  disaffected  toward  the 
republic,  and  now  peasants  came  to  join  the  royal 
standard.  But  a  republican  army  under  Hoche 
came  also.  Came  in  the  night,  in  a  wild  storm, 
gaining  the  sandy  point  by  wading  deep  through  the 
roaring  Quiberon  waters.  They  drove  the  royal- 
ists before  them.  Some  escaped  to  the  ships,  some 
perished  in  the  sea,  but  most  were  taken  prisoners. 

The  republic  was  master  on  the  soil  of  France. 
It  was  master  also  in  the  foreign  theaters  of  war, 
the  French  armies  still  sweeping  all  before  them  in 
their  invasion  of  the  allied  countries.  Indeed,  the 
allied  countries  were  beginning  to  give  up  the  fight. 
A  little  while  ago,  Prussia  and  Holland,  and  now 


END  OF  THE  REVOLUTION        327 

Spain  sued  for  peace  and  quit.  By  August,  1795, 
England  and  Austria  were  about  all  that  were  left 
of  the  huge  European  coalition  against  France. 

So,  pretty  much  at  ease,  the  Convention  at  last 
turned  seriously  to  a  business  it  long  had  been  neg- 
lecting. Though  this  body,  upon  first  convening, 
had  created  the  republic,  yet,  on  account  of  the 
troublous  times,  the  constitution  it  provided  had 
never  been  put  in  force.  Now  the  Convention  de- 
termined to  provide  a  new  one.  The  result  of  its 
labors  was  an  improvement  upon  the  earlier  efforts 
of  France  in  this  direction.  A  lesson  was  drawn 
from  America,  and  the  legislature  made  to  consist 
of  two  branches.  The  executive  power  was  to  be 
exercised  by  a  Directory  consisting  of  five  members. 

While  this  constitution  breathed  all  the  spirit  of 
liberty  that  the  Revolution  stood  for,  there  was  a 
marked  lessening  of  the  old  emphasis  upon  equality. 
Even  the  franchise  was  withdrawn  from  the  work- 
ing classes.  Altogether  this  new  attempt  at  an 
organic  law  was  too  aristocratic  to  please  the  radi- 
cal republicans,  and  of  course,  far  too  democratic 
to  please  the  royalists.  But  by  this  time  everybody 
wanted  to  get  rid  of  the  Convention  and  to  get 
settled  under  regular  government,  so  the  proposed 
constitution  was  generally  favored. 

What  made  trouble  was  the  Convention's  sud- 
denly added  provisions  that  two  thirds  of  the  legis- 
lature must  be  taken  from  its  own  membership. 


328  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

So  the  Convention  was  perpetuating  itself  after  all. 
This  aroused  opposition  throughout  France,  even 
threatened  violence  in  Paris;  and  yet,  upon  sub- 
mission to  the  people,  the  constitution  was  ac- 
cepted. At  this,  Palis  went  into  a  fury.  The 
royalists  were  not  slow  to  make  the  most  of  the 
situation.  Feelings  anti-Convention  were  easily 
fanned  into  feelings  anti-republic.  By  October  4, 
a  formidable  force  of  royalists  and  bourgeoisie  was 
ready  to  rise  against  the  Convention.  That  night 
was  one  of  violent  storm.  But  Paris  streets  were 
full.  In  and  out  of  coffee-houses  and  theaters  men 
marched  crying,  "Down  with  the  two  thirds!" 

A  little  man  came  out  of  one  of  the  cheap  theaters 
and  looked  about.  He  was  the  same  little  sallow- 
faced  man  that  had  watched  the  storming  of  the 
Tuileries  three  years  before  and  had  criticized  the 
weak  resistance  Louis  XVI  had  made.  The  name 
Napoleon  Bonaparte  was  somewhat  better  known 
now,  but  not  much.  The  five-foot-two  figure  in 
the  uniform  of  an  officer  of  artillery  looked  in- 
significant enough.  He  had  been  out  of  the  service 
for  some  time  and  was  poor  and  needy,  and  prob- 
ably at  the  moment  hungry.  His  uniform  showed 
for  wear  and  his  boot  tops  flapped  about  his  thin 
legs.  But  then,  it  is  hard  to  keep  smartness  in  a 
uniform  with  empty  pockets,  and  to  fill  boot  tops 
with  shapely  legs  on  one  meal  a  day.  Bonaparte 
looked  about  upon  hurrying  angry  crowds,  listened 


END  OF  THE  REVOLUTION        329 

to  a  parley  going  on  near  him,  and  started  off  in 
wind  and  rain  for  the  Tuileries.  With  all  his 
strange  prescience  he  did  not  see  that  he  was  walking 
straight  into  the  opening  of  his  career. 

In  the  meantime,  in  the  palace,  the  Convention 
was  waiting  in  trepidation.  It  had  done  all  it  could. 
It  had  available  for  defense  some  eight  thousand 
men  under  one  of  its  members,  Barras.  But  Bar- 
ras  could  not  find  a  certain  man  he  wanted  to  have 
take  the  immediate  command,  "A  little  Corsican 
officer  who  will  not  stop  on  ceremony."  After 
diligent  search  had  failed,  the  "little  Corsican 
officer"  walked  into  the  palace. 

In  the  presence  of  the  smart  officers  gathered 
there  he  looked  less  than  ever  like  the  man  for  the 
occasion, — so  hopelessly  unmilitary.  The  cocked 
hat  which  topped  the  small  figure  had  a  badly  ad- 
justed feather  limp  from  the  rain,  the  tricolored 
scarf  was  poorly  tied,  the  sword  carelessly  worn. 
Even  the  face,  later  to  become  impressively  statu- 
esque, was  only  pinched  and  sallow  under  the  lank 
wet  hair.  But  within  half  an  hour,  officers  at  the 
palace  who  had  exclaimed,  "Bonaparte!  Who  is 
Bonaparte?"  had  found  out.  They  were  no  longer 
smiling  at  the  little  officer's  sash  knot,  or  at  his  in- 
adequate legs.  They  were  too  busy  taking  his 
orders  that  came  quick,  laconic,  sharply  imperative. 
Cannon  were  got  from  every  available  source,  and 


330  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

strong  outposts  established.  Even  the  members  of 
the  Convention  found  arms  in  their  hands. 

By  morning  the  palace  was  a  fortress.  And  by 
morning  it  needed  to  be.  The  military  force  of  the 
insurgents,  now  including  about  thirty  thousand 
National  Guards,  came  marching  upon  the  Tuiler- 
ies  along  both  sides  of  the  Seine.  They  were  al- 
lowed to  approach  unmolested.  There  was  much 
valiant  shouting,  but  a  sudden  halt  at  sight  of  Bona-» 
parte's  defenses.  Hours  passed,  and  not  a  move- 
ment was  made  upon  either  side.  It  was  along  in 
the  afternoon  when  there  came  a  musket  shot  from 
somewhere,  and  the  insurgents  charged.  It  was  a 
brave  but  hopeless  attack.  Instantly  Napoleon's 
cannon  loaded  with  grapeshot  opened  fire.  Their 
deadly  work,  followed  by  a  charge  by  the  palace 
troops,  completely  dispersed  the  assailants. 

The  desperate  insurrection,  at  bottom  an  attempt 
to  restore  the  Bourbon  monarchy,  had  failed.  The 
republic  still  was  master.  Within  a  week  elections 
were  held  for  the  legislature  under  the  new  consti- 
tution. Then,  on  October  26,  1795,  the  Conven- 
tion declared  its  mission  ended,  and  closed  its 
sittings. 

Roughly,  this  date  is  a  mile-stone  in  French 
history.  Wrhile  the  period  of  revolutionary  energy 
in  France  is  as  hard  to  fix  at  its  ending  as  at  its 
beginning,  yet  the  date  of  the  close  of  the  Conven- 
tion in  1795  is  an  accepted  one  as  marking  the  end 


END  OF  THE  REVOLUTION         331 

of  the  French  Revolution.  In  the  next  period,  that 
of  the  Directory,  the  revolutionary  spirit  with  its 
good  and  its  evil  waned.  It  was  lost  in  social  cor- 
ruption, in  the  dry-rot  of  political  leaders,  and  in 
the  turning  of  the  nation  from  self-government  to  a 
military  despot,  Napoleon  Bonaparte. 

But  the  great  work  of  the  Revolution  was  not 
lost.  While  Napoleon  had  little  sympathy  with 
what  he  regarded  as  the  fanaticism  of  liberty,  and 
rather  despised  the  multitude,  yet  all  that  was  best 
of  revolutionary  development  found  recognition 
under  his  rule.  Indeed,  to  this  autocrat  was 
France  indebted  for  the  firm  and  enduring  estab- 
lishment of  the  principles  of  her  Revolution. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

WITH  Austria  and  France  still  at  war,  Vienna 
as  well  as  Paris  seethed  with  excitement. 
People  talked  feverishly,  many  of  them  too  much. 
Spies  were  everywhere.  Strange  meetings  came 
about  in  those  troubled  days.  Perhaps  no  stranger 
one  than  that  of  the  two  men  sitting  together  in 
one  of  the  popular  coffee-houses  of  Vienna  on  an 
autumn  afternoon.  One  was  a  slender,  boyish  fel- 
low barely  in  his  twenties;  the  other  somewhat 
older,  but  still  in  his  young  manhood,  quick  and 
alert.  They  talked  long  but  cautiously.  A  few 
words  of  that  talk  would  have  set  the  rulers  of 
Europe  by  the  ears. 

The  older  man  was  a  Hanoverian,  named  Boll- 
man;  a  physician  by  profession,  but  with  marked 
leaning  and  aptitude  for  adventure.  The  story  he 
told  his  young  chance  acquaintance,  after  measur- 
ing him  keenly,  was  a  strange  one.  Friends  of  La- 
fayette, baffled  in  their  attempts  to  solve  the  prison- 
mystery  of  his  whereabouts  (if  indeed  he  still  lived) 
had  turned  for  aid  to  this  Dr.  Bollman.  For  a  long 

332 


SWORD  OF  LIBERTY  333 

time  now  the  young  physician  had  been  going  up  and 
down  middle  Europe,  posing  as  this  and  as  that, 
seeking  some  clue  as  to  where  Lafayette  was  buried 
from  the  world. 

Mystified  and  often  hopeless,  he  had  at  length 
picked  up  a  clue  that  led  him  to  the  little  Austrian 
village  of  Olmutz,  with  its  huge  fortress,  about  one 
hundred  miles  north  of  Vienna.  There  was  village 
gossip  enough  that  some  mysterious  state  prisoner 
had  been  secretly  brought  to  the  ancient  stronghold 
and  was  being  doubly  guarded  there.  Bollman  felt 
that  he  had  come  to  the  end  of  his  long  search.  But 
how  was  he  to  make  sure,  let  alone  work  Lafayette's 
delivery?  Out  beyond  the  village,  alone  on  a  wide 
treeless  plain,  stood  the  great  Austrian  fortress 
like  a  prison-sphynx  in  the  desert;  and  sphynx-like 
it  kept  its  secrets. 

But  Bollman  matched  his  wits  against  massive 
walls,  and  guards,  and  guns.  A  casual  meeting 
with  the  surgeon  of  the  prison,  pleasant  professional 
fraternizing,  considerable  wine, — and  then  the 
secret  was  out.  Lafayette — that  is  to  say,  a  certain 
numbered  man  who  used  to  be  known  as  Lafayette 
— was  down  in  one  of  the  dungeons  of  the  fortress. 
More  professional  fraternizing,  more  wine, — and 
a  little  lemon  juice.  The  lemon  juice  was  for  secret 
writing  upon  what  appeared  as  innocent  communi- 
cations, often  carried  by  the  prison  surgeon  himself, 
between  the  pleasant  visiting  doctor  and  the  num- 


334  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

bered  man  in  the  dungeon.  The  communications 
spoke  of  "warmth"  or  of  "fire,"  and  the  numbered 
man  understood.  The  pieces  of  paper,  once  heated, 
bore  very  different  messages  from  the  ones  the  sur- 
geon had  read,  and  soon  a  plan  was  worked  out  for 
an  attempt  to  free  Lafayette. 

Bollman  could  not  manage  the  adventure  alone. 
So  now  here  he  was  in  a  coffee-house  in  Vienna, 
seeking  a  trusty  confederate.  And  who  was  that 
chance  acquaintance,  that  young  man  sitting  with 
him,  to  whom  the  wary  doctor  was  confiding  his 
story?  The  very  name  marks  this  a  strange  meet- 
ing. Huger,  he  called  himself, — Francis  Huger. 
No  other  than  the  son  of  Major  Huger  of  South 
Carolina,  at  whose  house  Lafayette  had  landed 
upon  his  first  going  to  America.  The  young  man 
remembered  his  childish  excitement  and  joy  over 
that  romantic  coming  in  the  night  of  the  elegant 
French  youth  to  fight  for  liberty.  Young  Huger 
needed  no  persuasion  to  join  Bollman  in  the  attempt 
to  free  that  hero  of  his  boyhood. 

So  one  November  evening  there  came  to  the 
Golden  Swan  Inn  at  Olmutz  two  young  horsemen 
followed  by  their  traveling  carriage  and  servants. 
To  the  curious  of  the  village,  Huger  was  a  young 
Englishman  and  Bollman  his  tutor.  By  the  old 
means  Bollman  communicated  again  with  Lafayette. 
The  general  had  been  ill  and  was  now  taken  out  for 
a  drive  on  certain  days.  In  the  morning  of  one  of 


SWORD  OF  LIBERTY  335 

those  days  the  "Englishman"  and  his  "tutor"  paid 
their  bill  at  the  Golden  Swan  Inn  and  sent  their 
carriage  and  servants  on  to  the  neighboring  town  of 
Hoff.  A  little  later  in  the  day  they  ordered  their 
saddle-horses  and  leisurely  followed. 

At  last  the  moment  for  their  attempt  had  come. 
There  was  but  one  thing  lacking.  They  knew  that 
they  needed  another  horse,  but  did  not  dare  to  take 
one  for  fear  of  arousing  suspicions.  They  had  found 
that  one  of  their  own  mounts  would  carry  double. 
That  must  do.  The  plan  was  for  the  two  horsemen 
to  meet  the  prison  carriage  on  the  road  and  to  effect 
the  rescue ;  then,  after  giving  Lafayette  one  of  their 
horses,  both  Bollman  and  Huger  were  to  mount  the 
other,  and  a  dash  was  to  be  made  for  Hoff  where 
their  traveling-carriage  was  waiting. 

The  plan  did  not  look  so  feasible  now  that  acting- 
time  had  come.  How  bare  the  country  was! 
How  the  sleepless  eyes  of  the  fortress  saw  every- 
thing for  miles  around !  Not  a  tree,  not  a  bush  to 
afford  a  moment's  hiding.  And  people  everywhere. 
Scattered  over  the  dull  plain  they  were  drudging  in 
the  soil ;  along  the  dusty  highway,  for  it  was  market- 
day,  they  came  driving  in  their  bright  dress  and 
their  high  carts.  But  Bollman  and  Huger  rode  on 
undaunted  by  the  odds.  They  must  play  the  game 
as  they  found  it. 

They  were  intent  upon  but  two  things  now,  the 
expected  meeting  with  the  prison  carriage,  and  the 


336  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

concerted  signal  by  Lafayette.  At  length  a  phaeton 
was  approaching.  Besides  the  driver,  a  private 
soldier,  and  an  officer,  it  contained  a  pale  and  ema- 
ciated man.  He  wore  a  blue  greatcoat.  But  the 
important  thing  was  that  as  the  two  horsemen  went 
by,  he  raised  his  hand  and  passed  a  white  handker- 
chief across  his  forehead.  Bollman  and  Huger 
bowed  a  faint  recognition  of  the  sign  and  passed 
on.  Their  hearts  were  pounding.  Lafayette  out 
in  the  open,  and  his  fate  depending  upon  them! 

As  soon  as  they  dared  they  turned  and  slowly 
followed  the  carriage.  In  a  little  while,  it  stopped. 
Lafayette  and  the  Austrian  officer  stepped  out  as 
though  for  exercise  for  the  prisoner,  who  leaned 
heavily  as  he  walked.  Huger's  eyes'  were  doubly 
alert  now,  for  at  a  distance  Bollman  saw  poorly. 
Suddenly  another  signal.  Plain  against  the  back 
of  the  blue  greatcoat,  a  handkerchief  waving.  The 
two  young  men  set  spurs  and  came  dashing  up. 
Lafayette  seized  the  hilt  of  the  officer's  sword,  but 
could  not  wrest  the  weapon  from  him.  Bollman 
threw  himself  from  his  horse,  which  he  left  with 
Huger,  and  joined  in  the  struggle.  The  soldier  in 
the  phaeton  leaped  out  and  ran  shouting  toward  the 
town,  the  driver  sat  still  and  crossed  himself,  the 
peasants  let  the  whole  affair  alone. 

But  the  fortress,  a  mile  or  two  away,  had  seen 
all.  The  boom  of  its  alarm  guns  rolled  out  over 
the  plain.  Soldiers  poured  forth  from  the  walls. 


SWORD  OF  LIBERTY  337 

Rescue  must  be  quick  now  or  not  at  all.  The 
Austrian  officer  was  gripping  Lafayette  so  that  it 
took  both  Bollman  and  Huger  to  free  him,  and  in 
the  struggle  one  of  the  horses  broke  loose  and  ran 
off  down  the  road.  Lafayette,  despite  his  protest, 
was  forced  upon  the  remaining  horse,  and  a  purse 
and  a  pistol  thrust  into  his  hands.  He  hesitated  a 
moment,  saw  the  runaway  horse  caught,  then  set  off . 
at  top  speed.  Bollman  and  Huger  mounted  to- 
gether, and  started  to  follow.  The  animal  reared 
and  plunged.  Fate  had  been  against  them:  it  was 
the  horse  Lafayette  was  on  that  would  carry  double. 
Soon  both  riders  were  in  the  ditch. 

Then  young  Huger  made  his  sacrifice.  He  per- 
suaded Bollman  that  of  the  two  of  them,  the  doctor 
could  be  of  more  service  to  Lafayette,  and  so  in- 
duced him  to  mount  alone  and  ride  on.  Huger  fol- 
lowed, running,  as  well  as  he  could.  It  was  a  short 
shrift  for  him.  The  .soldiers  closed  about  him,  and 
between  rows  of  fixed  bayonets  he  was  marched  to 
the  prison.  Down  in  a.  stone  cell  the  young  Ameri- 
can became  a  number  chained  to  a  wall. 

Days  passed.  Then  the  fortress  looking  out  over 
the  treeless  plain  saw  soldiers  approaching  with  a 
prisoner.  A  dungeon  door  closed  upon  Doctor 
Bollman  too, — another  number  chained  to  a  wall. 
The  grim  fortress  still  watched.  Again  soldiers 
approaching.  Among  them  a  tall,  emaciated  man  in 
a  blue  greatcoat.  Lafayette  had  missed  his  way, 


338  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

and  the  brave  dash  for  freedom  had  come  to  this! 

A  certain  Russian  nobleman  who  understood  how 
to  use  money  in  Austrian  affairs  interested  himself 
in  Bollman  and  Huger,  and  after  a  while  they  were 
released.  Prison  walls  held  Lafayette  closer  than 
ever.  No  word  possible  now  from  the  outside 
world.  More  watchful  than  ever  the  hawk-like 
eyes  of  the  fortress  swept  to  the  horizon.  But  they 
were  not  prepared  for  what  they  saw  one  golden 
autumn  morning  of  1795,  coming  across  the  tree- 
less plain.  In  an  open  carriage  a  woman  and  two 
girls,  and  driving  straight  for  the  prison.  Once 
there  their  surprising  mission  was  made  known, — 
not  to  free  Lafayette,  but  to  place  themselves  within 
dungeon  walls  to  share  his  fate ! 

Madame  de  Lafayette  and  her  daughters  had  had 
a  long  hard  journey  from  Paris  to  this  remote 
Austrian  stronghold.  At  Vienna  they  had  obtained 
the  necessary  permission  from  the  emperor  to  join 
Lafayette;  but  it  had  come  with  solemn  advice 
against  such  a  step. 

Now  a  strange  scene  in  the  old  prison.  Grief, 
struggle,  despair,  it  had  always  known  as  new  faces 
entered  in.  But  here  came  a  slender  little  woman 
and  two  young  girls  in  joyful  tears,  storming  the 
grim  entrance,  begging  to  be  made  prisoners,  exult- 
ing as  each  ponderous  door  closing  behind  brought 
them  nearer  to  that  doubly  locked  cell  of  Lafayette. 
Without  warning  to  the  prisoner,  the  bolts  rattled 


SWORD  OF  LIBERTY  339 

back  and  the  door  swung  open.  There  in  the  dim 
vaulted  space  was  standing  a  man,  tall,  pale,  thin  to 
emaciation,  entirely  bald,  wearing  rags  that  were 
once  the  uniform  of  a  French  general, — standing 
uncertainly,  gazing  with  wide  unbelieving  eyes  at  a 
radiant  group  trembling  in  his  prison  doorway. 

The  joy  of  that  reunion  never  faded  even  when 
the  first  exultation  passed,  and  the  long  days  and 
nights  of  immolation  wore  on,  and  stone  walls 
crowded  close,  and  iron  bars  ate  in.  The  two  girls 
were  given  a  cell  next  to  Lafayette's.  For  a  por- 
tion of  each  day  the  members  of  the  family  were 
allowed  to  be  together.  They  had  one  another, 
that  was  all.  Most  necessities  of  comfort,  even  of 
decency,  these  cultured  scions  of  nobility  had  to  get 
along  without.  No  one  cared  for  their  cells;  that 
work,  however  hard  and  repellent,  they  had  to  do 
for  themselves.  Their  food,  which  they  paid  for, 
was  plentiful  enough,  but  inexpressibly  dirty. 
They  were  compelled  to  eat  with  their  fingers, 
knives  and  forks  being  denied  them.  Worst  of  all, 
a  foul  open  drain  ran  under  their  window,  so  that 
the  air  was  constantly  contaminated. 

In  such  existence  weeks,  months,  a  year,  went 
by.  Through  some  means  the  prisoners  got  the 
comfort  of  knowing  that  young  George  had  safely 
reached  his  famous  namesake  in  America;  but  they 
were  not  allowed  to  communicate  with  him.  All 
seemed  able  to  bear  the  prison  life  except  Madame 


340  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

de  Lafayette.  Though  the  brightest  and  most 
cheerful  of  all,  she  was  evidently  failing.  Soon 
her  condition  became  alarming.  An  appeal  was 
made  to  the  emperor  that  she  might  be  permitted 
to  go  for  treatment  to  Vienna.  The  reply  was  that 
she  might  go,  but  that  if  she  did  she  could  not  re- 
turn. Adrienne  Noailles  de  Lafayette  did  not  go 
to  Vienna. 

By  this  time  the  family  must  have  been  much  im- 
pressed with  their  importance  as  prisoners.  The 
most  elaborate  precautions  were  taken  against  their 
escape.  The  huge  jailer  had  a  "trousseau"  of 
keys  with  which  to  unlock  their  cells.  He  did  not 
dare  to  speak  to  them  without  witnesses.  At  eight 
o'clock  at  night  he  appeared  accompanied  by 
several  guards.  It  was  then  time  for  the  girls  to 
be  taken  to  their  separate  cell.  They  had  to  pass 
under  the  crossed  sabers  of  the  guards.  So  the 
weeks  and  months  of  the  second  year  (the  fifth  for 
Lafayette)  dragged  on. 

All  this  time  efforts  were  being  made  to  induce 
Austria  to  relinquish  her  famous  prisoner.  Wash- 
ington did  all  in  his  power,  including  a  personal  ap- 
peal to  the  emperor.  But  in  the  imprisonment  of 
Lafayette,  Austria  was  but  acting  as  the  jailer  for 
Europe.  All  Europe  was  afraid  of  the  man.  The 
French  Revolution,  spreading  its  principles  with  the 
advance  of  its  armies,  had  undermined  European 
despotism.  With  the  zeal  of  a  holy  war  the  French 


SWORD  OF  LIBERTY  341 

legions  had  carried  to  downtrodden  peoples  the  new 
ideas  of  liberty  and  equality,  and  had  fired  them 
with  the  revolutionary  fanaticism  that  had  over- 
turned the  throne  of  France. 

Monarchs  trembled,  and  tightened  their  hold 
upon  Lafayette.  While  he  had  had  nothing  to  do 
with  the  excesses  of  the  French  Revolution,  and  had 
always  stood  for  moderation,  yet  he  had  been  and 
was  the  very  embodiment  of  rebellion  against  auto- 
cratic rule.  As  the  Austrian  cabinet  put  it,  "His 
very  existence  is  a  menace  to  the  established  govern- 
ments of  Europe."  Regardless  of  appeals  from 
every  side,  the  frightened  family  of  sovereigns  had 
no  idea  of  allowing  him  to  leave  his  prison  alive. 

But  at  length,  in  the  summer  of  1797,  a  voice 
was  to  speak  not  in  appeal  but  in  demand,  and 
prison  doors  were  to  open.  Napoleon  Bonaparte 
had  risen  fast  after  his  debut  in  cannon  smoke  at  the 
Tuileries.  Placed  at  the  head  of  one  of  the  French 
armies,  he  had  astonished  the  world  in  a  campaign 
against  Austria.  He  had  swept  through  Italy, 
over  the  Alps,  and  to  within  sight  of  the  domes  of 
Vienna.  Then  Austria  had  been  forced  to  sue  for 
peace;  and  among  the  terms  to  which  she  had  to 
accede  was  a  demand  for  the  release  of  Lafayette. 
Not  for  Lafayette's  sake  (even  Napoleon  feared 
the  man's  influence),  but  because  he  was  a  French 
general  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy. 

On  September   19,   1797,  the  gates  of  Olmutz 


342  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

swung  open,  and  under  an  Austrian  guard  the  La- 
fayettes  came  forth.  The  prisoner  of  kings  was  on 
his  way  to  liberty.  Weakened  and  blanched,  the 
family  shrank  from  sunshine  and  breeze,  and  even 
the  unaccustomed  pure  air  troubled  them.  Ac- 
companied by  the  guard,  they  set  out  for  Germany 
where,  at  Hamburg,  they  were  to  be  set  at  liberty. 
The  journey  was  taken  slowly  on  account  of  the 
seriously  weakened  condition  of  Madame  de  La- 
fayette. At  Hamburg,  America  had  another  grate- 
ful part  to  play.  It  was  not  to  some  representative 
of  France,  but  to  the  consul  of  the  United  States, 
that  this  important  state  prisoner  was  formally  de- 
livered. 

Now  where  was  Lafayette  to  find  a  home?  He 
was  forbidden  to  remain  in  Germany,  forbidden  to 
enter  France.  Few  places  were  open  to  him. 
America  of  course,  but  the  ill  health  of  his  wife  pre- 
cluded that.  At  first  the  family  joined  a  number  of 
relatives  and  friends  living  in  exile  in  a  fief  of  Den- 
mark. Here  they  became  part  of  a  tragical 
comedy  that  fallen,  impoverished  French  nobility 
were  playing  all  over  Europe.  Marquises,  counts, 
dukes,  and  their  grand  ladies,  exiled  by  law  or  by 
terror,  for  the  first  time  looking  the  world  in  the 
face,  and  trying  through  laughter  and  tears  to  get 
on  with  it.  Babes  in  the  woods ! 

They  pooled  their  little  sums  of  money,  won- 
dered at  what  shops  you  bought  things,  and  won- 


SWORD  OF  LIBERTY  343 

dered  more  that  their  money  bought  so  little.  Some- 
times a  hidden  jewel  or  a  treasured  keepsake  would 
be  brought  out,  and  the  proceeds  helped  for  a  while. 
Hiding  poverty  through  the  day,  fallen  noblesse 
would  meet  at  night  in  their  faded  best  quite  in  the 
manner  of  the  Paris  salon.  If  hunger  gnawed,  it 
but  lent  piquancy  to  conversation  as  to  how  much 
the  last  snuff-box  would  bring.  And  so  all  out 
around  France  tears  and  laughter  went  on, — tears 
in  the  little  back  rooms,  laughter  in  the  mock  salons. 
And  poverty  did  not  overlook  the  Lafayettes.  For 
long  this  was  their  life.  Yet  they  had  a  sort  of 
happiness,  and  Madame  de  Lafayette  grew  stronger. 

Toward  the  spring  of  1798,  young  George 
Washington  arrived  from  America.  He  had 
grown  almost  out  of  recognition.  To  his  father 
the  joy  of  his  coming  was  enhanced  by  what  he 
brought  with  him.  The  boy  had  dared  to  pass 
through  France  on  his  way,  and  had  visited  his  aged 
aunt  at  Chavaniac.  There  he  had  remembered  the 
buried  American  sword  that  had  lain  in  Lafayette's 
native  soil  through  all  those  troubled  years.  He 
had  dug  it  up, — that  is,  the  gold  hilt  of  it,  the  blade 
having  rusted  away. 

It  was  a  dangerous  undertaking  at  that  time  to 
attempt  to  carry  gold  out  of  France;  but  young 
George  successfully  concealed  the  treasured  hilt, 
and  now  presented  it  to  his  father.  A  son  just  re- 
turned from  the  home  of  Washington;  in  his  hand 


344  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

the  hilt  of  the  American  honor  sword!  What 
thoughts  must  have  been  Lafayette's !  Night  after 
night  he  talked  with  George  of  America;  and 
chiefly  of  the  man  who,  as  he  said,  "had  become  a 
father  for  both." 

Early  in  1799  the  Lafayettes  moved  a  step 
nearer  their  native  land,  making  their  home  in  a 
little  village  in  Holland  near  Utrecht.  Madame  de 
Lafayette's  name  was  not  among  those  in  the  "book 
of  death,"  and  so,  being  free  to  enter  France,  she 
made  a  number  of  journeys  there  in  the  attempt  to 
save  something  from  the  wreck  of  her  family's 
princely  possessions.  She  was  but  one  of  many 
lone  women  of  the  old  nobility  desperately  engaged 
in  such  efforts.  Poverty-stricken,  they  sought 
cheap  lodgings,  went  afoot  past  their  own  lost 
palaces,  and,  in  memory  of  the  death-tumbrels, 
shivered  at  the  rumble  of  a  cart. 

Madame  de  Lafayette  was  upon  one  of  her  visits 
to  Paris  that  memorable  ninth  of  November,  1799, 
when,  by  a  coup  d'etat,  all  of  the  republic  but  the 
name  was  overthrown,  and  Bonaparte  as  First 
Consul  became  dictator  of  France.  The  devoted 
wife  of  Lafayette  was  quick  to  see  in  this  upheaval 
a  possibility  of  ending  the  exile  of  her  husband. 
She  planned  a  little  coup  d'etat  of  her  own.  Hur- 
riedly she  wrote  him  that  the  France  which  had  set 
a  price  upon  his  head  was  no  more,  that  now  was 


SWORD  OF  LIBERTY  345 

the  moment  to  risk  all,  break  through  his  proscrip- 
tion, and  come  to  Paris. 

Within  two  hours  after  the  messenger  reached 
Lafayette  with  this  letter  and  a  passport  for  him 
under  an  assumed  name,  the  exile  was  on  his  way 
to  France.  But  upon  his  advising  Napoleon  of  his 
arrival  in  Paris,  the  dreaded  anger  of  the  Corsican 
blazed  forth.  Nobody  dared  to  speak  to  him  of 
the  matter.  Prison  walls  seemed  looming  again  for 
Lafayette. 

His  friends  urged  him  to  leave  France  at  once. 
He  spoke  of  Bonaparte's  anger  lightly.  "You 
should  be  sufficiently  acquainted  with  me,"  he  said, 
"to  know  that  this  imperious  and  menacing  tone 
would  suffice  to  confirm  me  in  the  course  which  I 
have  taken."  This  was  but  the  first  of  many  con- 
flicts of  will  between  these  two  great  leaders  of 
France.  This  time  Napoleon's  star  was  in  the 
ascendant,  and  while  Lafayette  was  allowed  to  re- 
main in  his  native  land,  it  was  required  that  he 
should  live  in  retirement  in  the  country  until  re- 
lieved from  his  proscription.  The  time  was  soon 
to  come  when  the  tables  were  to  be  turned,  when 
Lafayette,  who  was  yet  to  make  and  unmake  kings, 
should  be  among  the  foremost  in  forcing  the  abdi- 
cation of  Bonaparte  as  emperor.  But  all  that  was 
on  beyond  the  days  of  this  story  of  two  revolutions. 
Now,  Madame  de  Lafayette  had  finally  recovered 
an  estate  (inherited  from  her  mother)  called  La 


346  SWORD  OF  LIBERTY 

Grange,  not  far  from  Paris,  and  to  this  the  family 
retired. 

It  is  useless  to  try  to  keep  Lafayette  out  of  the 
atmosphere  of  the  days  of  chivalry.  Grave  histori- 
ans have  failed  at  it.  Just  as,  in  his  boyhood,  a 
gallant  young  figure,  he  sailed  across  the  sea  to 
fight  for  liberty;  just  as,  through  two  revolutions, 
he  fought  and  suffered  with  courage  high  and  honor 
unsullied;  so  now  he  returned  from  battle-field  and 
prison  like  a  worn  but  undaunted  crusader.  And 
(how  the  atmosphere  holds!)  returned  to  a  verit- 
able medieval  stronghold  with  battlements,  moat, 
portcullis,  and  all.  La  Grange  did  not  fail  in  its 
part.  It  was  a  great  castle-fortress  of  the  days  of 
the  Crusades  themselves.  And  down  through  the 
centuries  it  had  defied  change.  For  this  "knight  of 
liberty"  here  was  proper  resting-place. 

And  here  for  long  Lafayette  remained,  rather 
scandalizing  the  proud  old  castle,  perhaps,  by  turn- 
ing farmer.  But  he  kept  the  warrior  spirit  too,  and 
treasured  his  trophies  as  they  hung  upon  the  walls. 
There  among  others  was  the  gold  hilt  of  the 
American  honor  sword,  a  line  of  rust  showing 
where  blade  had  been;  and  there  was  the  honor 
sword  from  France. 

Then,  an  inspiration!  Was  it  Lafayette's  or  did 
it  come  from  the  shade  of  some  bold  knight  who 
had  fared  forth  across  the  portcullis  of  La  Grange 
and  left  his  bones  in  the  Holy  J^and?  Soon,  in- 


SWORD  OF  LIBERTY  347 

stead  of  those  two  trophies  on  the  wall,  there  hung 
a  strange  new  sword:  to  the  empty  hilt  from 
America  had  been  welded  the  blade  of  the  weapon 
from  France.  Now  in  odd  companionship  were 
the  exquisitely  wrought  devices, — Gloucester,  and 
the  dread  tocsin;  Barren  Hill,  and  the  Fall  of  the 
Bastille.  It  was  all  a  long  while  ago.  And  yet  to- 
day somewhere  in  France  still  hangs  that  strange 
sword  of  two  languages,  of  two  countries,  of  two 
great  revolutions  for  freedom — Sword  of  Liberty. 


THE  END 


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